


Outside Chance

by wcdarling



Series: In Exile [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bajor, Canonical Character Death, Cardassian Liberation Front, Cardassian Rebellion, Character Death, Destruction, Domestic Fluff, Dominion War, Drama, Episode Related, Exile, Explicit Sexual Content, Genocide, Grief, Guerilla Warfare, Holodecks/Holosuites, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Post-Canon Cardassia, Rebellion, Resistance Fighters, Revolution, Section 31, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8862097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcdarling/pseuds/wcdarling
Summary: After being kicked out of Starfleet due to his status as a Post-Eugentics Human Augment, Julian Bashir is now working on Bajor. While no longer part of the plots of DS9 (mid-Season 5 onward), because of his relationship with Garak, he remains nonetheless strongly connected to the station, its crew and inhabitants, not to mention the fate of the Federation and the Alpha Quadrant. Sequel to "Exile for Two." AU with alternating POVs of Bashir and Garak.





	1. Debriefing: Empok Nor

**Author's Note:**

> After finishing ["Exile for Two"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8425447/), I had the notion of doing a follow-up, but nothing specific. Then just recently I was chatting with [prisdreamsofsweetness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsofsweetness) on Tumblr and mentioned doing a sequel. I said I wanted to write something that was how DS9 would've played out if Bashir weren't on the station, but Garak was. What would it be like when for example Garak had to jump on board the Defiant when the Dominion took over and meanwhile Julian was stuck on Bajor? And what if... And suddenly I was being egged on -- "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" They were a total cheerleader and nagged me to start it (in a good way) and so I did. 
> 
> Now, if you haven't read the original story, a quick summary: Unlike in ["Doctor Bashir, I Presume?"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Doctor_Bashir%2C_I_Presume_\(episode\)) Julian loses his commission, his medical license, and is basically told "You're on your own, buddy." He really hasn't planned for this and doesn't feel like any of his friends are going to be helpful, so he asks Garak over, because he won't be judgmental. While Garak in fact isn't exactly helpful, he's a decent listener and sympathetic. And eventually Julian does get help, although it's through Kira. Who also accidentally forces him and Garak together. (It's romantic comedy material.) And that's where this story picks up. 
> 
> Although this story is marked Explicit for sexual content, there are only a couple of chapters to which this label applies and those nits can be skipped, if desired, as they're not essential to plot. (Though I have received compliments on them!)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in the aftermath of the episode ["Empok Nor,"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Empok_Nor_\(episode\)) somewhere after the point in the canon episode where O'Brien tells Garak he didn't exactly plan to spare his life. I'd rate that episode about a 4 on a 5 point scale, for being suspenseful (empty station gives off that total _Alien_ vibe), having Garak go psycho, Garak egging O'Brien on about the Federation-Cardassian War, the kotra, etc. Anyway, this takes place after all that, in an AU where his now-boyfriend Julian gets a call afterward from DS9's CMO saying Garak's in the infirmary.

Julian leaned toward the shuttle window and though he knew his eyes would not find the station, they hunted for it nonetheless. How he wished he were there already! But they were 42.5 minutes out and there was nothing he could do to speed the shuttle's progress -- to his frustration.

In the two months since he'd been exiled from Starfleet and the Federation, the doctor had visited Deep Space Nine four times -- chiefly to see Garak. Now that they’d entered into a relationship, they had a great deal of lost time to make up for. During his visits he'd also assisted the station's CMO and met up with a couple of old friends. None of these trips had even been spontaneous or made in a hurry, but had been scheduled during break periods in his job on Bajor, overseeing the planning of a major new clinic in the capital. He was enjoying his new life on the planet, but also found relief being able to get away every so often.

But this fifth trip to the station was different. It had not been planned, and was essentially in response to a medical emergency. Yes, he probably would have gone and visited Garak once he returned from his unusual "away mission" with O'Brien to the station's twin, Empok Nor, but he hadn't expected to be called up by Dr. Vakat, DS9's Vulcan doctor. "Your companion Elim Garak was exposed to psychotropic drugs and is currently under treatment," he'd messaged. "Your immediate presence here on the station would be advisable."

He'd pumped Vakat for more information of course, but the doctor had politely refused, saying the details would have to wait until he arrived on the station. O'Brien, or perhaps Garak, once he was in back in his right mind, would fill him in. Now, closing in on DS9, his mind whirled with possibilities. "Exposed" to psychotropic drugs? How? Deliberately? By whom? What specific drugs? How had he reacted?

As the station at last came into view, Julian forced himself to break off this line of thought. He knew plenty of techniques to stave off anxiety and snapped a basic one into place, telling himself he would only know the answers when he reached the infirmary, so there was so use tearing himself up with questions over and over. He consciously slowed his breathing. He would arrive as a doctor, not as a panic-stricken partner.

Once docked, Julian disembarked and made his way to the infirmary as quickly as he could. On a regular visit his pace would've been more leisurely, with a stop at the replimat for raktajino, chatting with friends or acquaintances on the Promenade, and finally heading to Garak's Clothiers or up to the Cardassian's quarters. But not today.

Arriving at his former place of work, Julian as usual had to steel himself a bit. With only a couple of months behind his abrupt departure from the service, the wounds were still raw. But today was not about himself. It was about Garak. Time for professional doctor demeanor.

He was greeted by Nurse Jabara, who smiled warmly at him and gestured toward one of the patient rooms in back. "Dr. Vakat is dealing with a recalcitrant patient," she informed him. "He's told me to let you in. I believe he requires extra assistance."

"—must disagree!" Garak sputtered as Julian stepped into the room. "I assure you I'm sufficiently recovered to leave this miserable clinic and return to the relative comfort of my own quarters."

The Cardassian was sitting on the biobed facing away from the door and had not heard Julian come in. Vakat however raised an eyebrow and subtly tilted his head in an invitation to approach.

"So you have repeated several times now, Mr. Garak," the doctor said patiently. Vulcans had patience in abundance. "However, I do not believe you can be released without medical supervision." When a "but" immediately emerged from Garak's mouth, Vakat gracefully lifted a hand to stave off his protest. "There is good news, however."

Julian, having made a silent approach to the biobed, now made his way to the end. "Ah, Dr. Vakat. I believe I can take over from here?"

The Vulcan nodded curtly. "Yes, I believe that will work perfectly." Moving from the bed, he quickly transferred data from a console to a PADD and handed the device over. "This will provide you will all the details of his condition from the time he arrived at the station until the last readings just minutes ago. I will trust you to monitor Mr. Garak's condition while he rests in his quarters, where I would advise he remain, away from his work, for at least the next two days." 

"Two days!" Garak protested. Both doctors raised their eyebrows and huffed. Their patient scowled, then drew his lips into a flat line. "Hmmph. We'll see about two days."

Julian reached for his partner's nearest hand and tugged. "Come, Mr. Garak. Let me escort you up to the habitat ring and get you settled in your quarters." Once Garak had slid down from the biobed, Julian walked with him toward the door. Turning back, he held up the PADD to Vakat. "Thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome. Please let me know at once if you require any further assistance." 

As he turned back toward the door, Julian caught Garak rolling his eyes.

* * *

Julian didn't even attempt to break Garak's predictable silence as they made their way up to the habitat ring. Nor did he fill in the silence with chatter -- updates from his work on Bajor, new research projects, and the like. Garak wouldn't be interested in anything but personal privacy at the moment, and so the sooner they were behind closed doors, the better.

Not that his companion opened up once they were in his quarters. After Julian offered to fix dinner, Garak excused himself, saying he was long overdue for a shower. "And I must divest myself of this horrid Federation-issue patient wear. A shame my own clothes were ruined, but ah well."

Before the doctor could ask what happened to Garak's clothes, the man disappeared into the bathroom. Reminding himself to be patient, Julian set his mind to creating a simple but pleasing meal, along with an inviting nest of blankets and pillows for cuddle-up time on the sofa afterward. Assuming he could coax his partner that far and, hopefully, get him to talk.

He was curled up on the sofa reviewing Garak's medical records -- and beginning to wonder if Garak was coming out again -- when the bedroom door opened and the tailor emerged, perfectly coifed and dressed in a suit of dark green.

"I believe I smell dinner," he announced. "Thank you. Shall we sit?"

Julian rose, noting Garak's cheerful visage and knowing it was a sham. He'd seen it before, on more than one occasion. For example, the time Garak had joined him in the replimat after recovering from the deactivation of his cranial implant and a near-death experience. "How's the Idanian spice pudding?" he'd asked. As if nothing whatsoever had happened. But that was three years ago. Julian would not let him sweep trauma under the rug so completely.

But first there was dinner. As Garak sat down at the table and tucked a napkin into his collar, Julian laid out a spread of Romulan food he knew Garak enjoyed and poured two glasses of the springwine he'd brought up from Bajor on his last visit.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass briefly. Garak didn't respond in kind; he'd noted on several occasions that he found the idea of toasts, however brief, gratingly saccharine. "I'm glad you're back, and I get to see you, even if I was called up for an emergency."

"Yes, I'm lucky to see you a few days earlier than expected," Garak allowed, once again laying on the cheer most people, but not Julian, would take as genuine. "Although aside from the fact that Vakat wouldn't have left let me out of the infirmary, you could've waited."

Julian tilted his head and frowned. "Elim, Vakat asked me to come up because it was an emergency. I still don't have the faintest idea what went on, but I do know, as a doctor, that the type of psychotropic drugs you were exposed to are no joke. They knocked you out of commission for hours after you had returned from an away mission."

At this Garak's mouth drew itself into the little crescent moon it assumed when he was either affronted or shocked. And then he picked up his knife and fork and began to eat. Dinner conversation was evidently at an end.

As they passed the meal in silence, Julian tried not to stare at his partner, instead looking down at his food or glancing out towards the porthole. He did of course study Garak, looking for clues that might tell him what was going on behind that ridged forehead and inscrutable face. In the short time they'd been a couple, Julian felt he'd made a surprising amount of progress getting to know Garak and reading him. However, with so many different, opaque layers to work through, he still had a long way to go.

When it looked like Garak had finished eating, Julian decided it was time to make his move. He finished off the last of his current glass of springwine, stood and walked in the direction of the sofa. "Come over here, dear. I'd like to talk."

He wrapped half of a blanket around himself, sat down and draped the second half of the blanket across the back of the sofa. He gestured to the handful of pillows and lap blankets strewn on the seat. "It's cozy here."

Garak had at first looked ready to make an excuse not to talk or come over, but on seeing the blankets, and possibly Julian's pleading look, left the table and settled down on the sofa.

"I don't--"

"Want to talk about it," Julian finished for him. He wrapped the blanket around Garak's shoulders. "Yes, I know. But you will. However, first, tell me, how are you feeling now?"

"Better," he said, though he was sitting stiff-backed, hands in his lap. "The drugs have worn off, and I'm not aggressive anymore. Not threatening. Not up for a killing spree."

A killing spree? Julian wanted the details of the mission now, but again, clung to patience.

"You killed someone, Elim?" he asked softly.

"Yes," he sighed, and Julian heard regret in his voice. "They say it was because of the drugs."

"I see," Julian murmured.

Garak turned abruptly. "Not that I need drugs to kill. As I'm sure you know, or have guessed." 

He nodded. "Of course. And I've seen you violent."

Garak looked puzzled for a moment, then frowned in distaste. "Oh, the incident with the implant. It was lucky your augmented strength allowed you to fend off my attack."

A detail Julian had forgotten but a thought he'd had in the immediate aftermath. Of course he hadn't been able to share that truth.

He stretched his arm around Garak's shoulders and pulled him back into the sofa. "Yes, my augmented strength did protect me. And my compassion will protect me from whatever story, and I hope it will be the true story, you have to tell me now. You don't have to protect me."

Garak, muscles still tense, huffed. "Your nosiness will never end, will it?"

Julian turned and dared to nuzzle his partner's neck. "It's not nosiness, Elim, it's concern. You're not accustomed to such a thing, so you get the two confused."

Hesitantly, Garak reached up and stroked Julian's hair. He was silent for perhaps half a minute. Then he said, "I really don't want to talk about it, but I will. I... probably do need to and since you put up with me, I may as will talk about it with you."

Julian's immediate reply was to kiss Garak's neck ridge. "Go on."

Garak withdrew, then turned sideways and scooted over so his head was on the armrest and his feet on Julian's lap. 

"There’s an adage on Cardassia. 'Every tool is a weapon, if you hold it right.' Well, that saying played out in truth on this mission."

And Garak told his tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "adage" Garak quotes is actually a line I stole from Ani Difranco's song ["My IQ,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrMM2GHRtGo) off her album _Puddle Dive_. The full lyrics are [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/anidifranco/myiq.html) and in context the line is "I sing sometimes for the war that I fight || 'cause every tool is a weapon - if you hold it right."


	2. Exchanging Messages: Call to Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set during ["Call to Arms"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Call_to_Arms_\(episode\)) and I've tried to follow the timeline and details as closely as I can. However, as none of the people messaging feel free to give out all the specifics, some things are a bit fuzzy. So the characters may know, but they can't say.

Julian was fresh out of the shower when the chime for an incoming video message came in. He might have covered himself up as he moved to accept the call, except the alert was the special chime he'd set for messages from Garak. If his lover saw him shirtless, or otherwise exposed, it wasn't a problem – far from it. 

"Accept call," he said, and while he quickly ran a hand through his wet, curly hair, Garak appeared in the view screen. He was wearing a familiar lounge top and from the background, Julian could see he was in his quarters. 

"Hello, dear. I seem to have caught you at just the right time." He made a show of running his eyes up and down Julian's torso. "A minute earlier or later and I would've missed this."

"How fortuitous," Julian chuckled, seating himself in the chair opposite the viewer. "And I'd hoped you would call."

"Oh?" 

"Yes. I've heard some rumblings down here re the war but I can't really get anything too solid. You, however, are in much more of a position to know – or find out despite not officially being in a position to know." He put one forearm down on the table and leaned toward the screen. "So what can you tell me about what's going on up there?"

Garak grinned conspiratorially, then glanced over his shoulder – as if anyone could be there – before turning back and arching an eyeridge. "Well, as it happens, there are a few happenings up here on the station, most rather minor, I did wish to report. Just so you can feel in touch with your former home, you understand. One mustn't miss out on gossip."

Julian wasn't fooled for one moment. Garak had called him to deliver a pile of news, but was deliberately drawing it out and also acting as if this were purely a social call. Ah, well, he'd just have to play along.  

"Yes, I'd hate to find, on my next visit, that I was out of the loop." He tapped his fingers on the table. "For example, what's happening with Rom and Leeta's wedding?"

Garak grinned slyly. "Ah, now that's one of the things I was going to tell you about, as who do you think has been commissioned to design the bride's wedding dress?"

And so Garak told the tale of the soon-to-be newlyweds and their extended argument over the gown – essentially naked versus clothed – and how Ziyal had neatly ended it by suggesting Garak supply Leeta with one of his own designs. 

"That was just this afternoon," he explained, "but I've already made progress on sketches. It will be a pleasure to design something for her. I think you'll agree she's lovely?"

Julian settled back in his chair. "Well, we did date for several months, so, yes I agree." He checked Garak's expression but found it unreadable. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Not at all, dear. It's just a bit difficult for me to imagine what you were doing with all those women." He coughed drily. "Frankly it always was."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. We've been over this. Now what else? And keep talking, even though I'm going to put some clothes on."

"Such a shame," he heard Garak sigh as he went to the bedroom to snag his pajamas. "Well, that was the _people_ gossip. Now for the less personal gossip, the kind I think you're more starved for down on that university campus of yours..."

Once he was in his pajamas Julian eagerly resumed his seat across from the screen and listened to Garak's report on the station's mood. War seemed inevitable and imminent; the general sentiment was they had a few weeks at best. Garak believed that estimate to be optimistic. 

"You see," he confided, "I have knowledge of certain information – which I won't share in this channel – that leads me to believe that battle lines are drawing up quickly, even as we speak. And once they're in place, war will begin."

Julian had a good idea what the Cardassian meant. He wished he could press for details but understood why he couldn't. Not on an open channel. 

"I understand," he said resignedly. "Anything else?"

Garak hunched forward toward his side of the screen. "Yes. I've just told you that the situation will likely change very quickly. We will go from peace to war in hours. I don't know what will happen on Bajor." 

Julian kept his mouth shut. Garak often spoke in riddles or half-truths but this was not such an instance. He was laying out important information. 

"In the next day, starting tonight if you can, I want you to put together a contingency plan, should you need to hide yourself or escape from the city." Julian nodded, mouth dry, understanding. "If the Dominion should take the station or the planet, it's possible they may look for you, as former Starfleet and a Federation doctor. You must not be found." 

"Alright. I can do that," he said. "The hospital director, my boss, is married to a former Resistance leader, and will have connections, I think. And they both loathe the Dominion, especially now allied with Cardassia. And besides their help, just so you know, I can be ingenious about altering files and records when I need to be."

Garak nodded curtly. "Good. Then proceed with that quickly and get back to me as soon as it's done. I want you safe."

Julian's eyes roamed his lover's face. "And what about you? Will you be safe?"

"I'll be fine," he assured. "Now get to work, dear." 

* * *

_Garak,_

_It's the middle of the night – both our nights – but I wanted to update you. Everything we discussed earlier is taken care of. I wish I could tell you more but I'm not certain that's wise. It's very late, after all. But rest easy, I should be quite safe. Message me back when and if you can._

_Julian_

He sent off the message with some relief – heavily overshadowed by frustration. Julian wanted to give Garak the details, how he'd worked out arrangements with his boss Resa's husband Elam (he'd have to tell Elim about the name). How Resa himself had given Julian the go ahead to hack into any systems necessary and switch out his identity should circumstances require it. How he now had a list of routes, hideouts, and contacts should he need to leave the city; he already had it memorized. 

But he couldn't do that. He knew very well communications might be monitored. Or monitored retroactively. So he'd trust Garak to grasp his meaning. No doubt he would. 

And now? Now it was time to go to bed and, if possible, sleep. Then in the morning, there was work, training doctors and nurses, treating patients. All while keeping his ears trained for any news of the war and any messages from Garak or anyone else. 

* * *

Julian had programmed his primary communications tablet to relay any non-video messages directly to him, wherever he was, so when a message finally came through from the station, he received it immediately. 

The departmental meeting was coming to a close and as he was seated next to his boss, all he had to do was point at the tablet's alert, gesture vaguely upward, and raise his eyebrows, and Resa tilted his head toward the room's rear door. He was excused. 

He exited the room, crossed the hall and let himself into a small study hall. It was late afternoon so no artificial lights were needed. He took a seat near a window as he clicked on the message – from Kira. 

_Julian:_

_I have to make this short. Odo and I are about to shut down all communications from the station. But we realized we should contact you – as a friend. Of course there are things I can't tell you in an open message like this, but I think you know the gist. We're on the brink of war, and DS9 and Bajor will likely be caught in the middle of it. Right now Bajor is standing firm against the Dominion, and I don't expect that to change, but I'd say be prepared for anything. Garak's told me what he's had you do to protect yourself. I'm glad he's done that. I hope it will be enough. And I hope to see you again._

_Nerys_

Appended directly below was a second message: 

_Julian,_

_I compose this message in haste, and as I do, I am reminded of the clichés of so many novels set in wartime, of lovers parted. Like all those fictions, but with utmost sincerity, I bid you to stay safe and not to worry about me. Truly: do not worry. Even if you do not hear from me for a long, long time. Even if you learn I'm no longer on the station and cannot pick up a trace of me on Bajor. Do not look for me. Follow the plan as we have discussed. I will find you, and find a way to reach you. I know it will be difficult, given my character, but please trust me in this._

_Ever yours,_  
_Elim_

Julian clamped a hand over his mouth and cried. The tablet tumbled to the floor.

* * *

_Elim,_

_I don't know where you are, or when I'll be able to send this, but I keep wanting to write you and so I will. Maybe this will be like a diary entry, if nothing else. Julian talking to himself. I hope not. I hope one day, and I hope soon, you'll be able to read my words, will hear me speak to you. Maybe even in person._

_Here's what I do know. I know Bajor signed the nonaggression treaty with the Dominion. Kira doubted that would happen, yet she did say to be prepared for anything. That went over like a ton of bricks here. (Does that idiom translate at all?) I also know the station was attacked, the Federation had to abandon the station, and that most Bajorans evacuated._

_Going back to what I don't know, I have no idea what's happened to you, but I'm trusting you got off safely, with some ship. You will have gotten away from Dukat and any Cardassians I'm sure. If you're on Bajor I can't know, although I doubt it. You can't really blend in here, and who knows what Bajoran might sell you out._

_But you know all this, and here I am, talking to myself as I predicted. I'm sure you'd tell me how you were outwitting people far worse than the Dominion when I was just a toddler. How anyone could be worse I don't know, but I know you'd tell me that._

_As for me, well, I'm not really me, officially. Not on records or anywhere on campus, in classes. My coworkers and students are all calling me something different. Oddly it's giving me a bit of a flashback to when I was a teenager and made everyone stop calling me Jules, only this time it's my whole name. Odd, but I'm sure I'll get used to it._

_And I know I shouldn't be putting all these details into a message like this, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm guessing that either I will never be able to reach you with this message or that you will come up with some way of sending encrypted messages that cuts through battle lines undetected, in which case none of these details will matter._

_I must confess that like you, at this point I'm thinking of clichés from novels, letters between lovers. Actually I probably would gush out all those customary clichés but I'll just let both of us fill them in in our minds._

_With love,_  
_and hope,_  
_Julian_


	3. Dispatch from the Front: Rocks and Shoals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set at the start of Season 6, after the events of ["A Time to Stand"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/A_Time_to_Stand_\(episode\)) and ["Rocks and Shoals."](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Rocks_and_Shoals_\(episode\)) Julian has been on Bajor for four months, not even knowing where Garak is, but having been told to keep the faith he'll be OK. He also can't get any real news of the other side of the war, as the Dominion is controlling communications. He can't communicate with DS9 either, because he has to be in hiding. So he's cut off and hanging on news.

It had been an exhausting day. After a full stint at the university and then the hospital, there had been a full-on emergency, a shuttlecraft accident. A government minister had been severely injured, with trauma to both her internal organs and the brain. Resa and several assistants had handled the organ damage, stopping the bleeding, while Julian did the delicate and demanding work of saving the brain and, he was determined, retaining as close to full function as possible. 

The equipment he had to work with was not as good as what he'd had on DS9, but it was better than it had been when he first arrived on the planet. He'd had it upgraded. The organ team finished its work patching up and stabilizing the woman a couple of hours before Julian was done, and he let them know he would be fine working with a small team of nurses and a technical assistant. After six and a half hours, he deemed that he had done all he could for the moment and the only thing now was to wait and run further tests once the patient regained consciousness. Now, he had to get some sleep, for even an Augment required rest to complete such demanding work.  

So when he peeled himself out of his surgical scrubs, filled out the patient instructions and report, and picked up his bag to go home, the last thing on his mind was checking his messages. However, once he was home in his apartment, he emptied his bag and there it was: a new message on his tablet, from Resa, marked "Urgent." 

The doctor collapsed into his one comfortable chair. "View message from Resa," he said, expecting either a follow-up on the emergency patient or a note on an early morning meeting set for the next day. Neither of which were "urgent."

This wasn't what he'd expected, however. Instead what popped up was a short note, addressed to his alias: "Please come to my home, no matter how late. Received package, meant for you. -Tenra."

What could it...? But then he knew. _Garak._ He'd found a way to reach him. And Resa must have known it was him and known Julian would want to know immediately. And damn right, he did. 

He headed out the door, determined to reach Resa's home as quickly as possible. He actually didn't live in the same neighborhood, but the public transports ran late and he was able to catch one within a minute of leaving his apartment. He arrived at the house ten minutes later and stepping to the door, pressed the visitor button. 

Resa appeared after only a minute, not in pajamas but home loungewear; clearly he'd been waiting up. Ushering Julian inside with a quick hello, he led him to a small study. Once inside, he shut the door and gestured to a chair.

"I knew you'd come as soon as you could," he said, leaning over to retrieve something. 

"Is it–?" Julian half-asked. He was afraid to say it, in case he'd guessed wrong. 

"From Garak," Resa said, turning around and holding out a small datarod. 

As Julian accepted the object and regarded it with wonder, his boss continued. "It came addressed to me this afternoon. The routing is shrouded, no doubt complex and indirect, but based on the content, I have no doubt of the sender and the intended recipient."

Julian looked up, tears in his eyes. "It's been over three months," he said quietly, "I haven't heard a word from him since..."

Resa nodded. "I know. Now let me set it up in my console here. The basic message is just a delivery note and a photo but knowing you, your gifts, and your circumstances, I'm going to assume it's encrypted with a message. 

He rose from his seat, dazed. "Yes. I... I'd like to crack it now. If that's alright."

Resa stepped away from his desk. "It's fine, Julian. Work as long as you need, then let yourself out. I'm going to bed."

"Tenra, I can't tell you how grateful I am... for this and everything you've done for me." 

"We must all do what we can." He turned to go, then half-turned at the door. "Oh, and you're excused from the morning meeting."

Julian smiled. "Thanks. I owe you." 

"You do."

As soon as the door was shot, he got to work. The image was actually that of a virus. "Clever, Elim," he muttered. Routing a virus to a doctor. Most people would have no idea what it even was, let alone the specific virus or that it hid an encrypted message. But after studying it and detecting an anomaly (he devised Dax's handiwork here), he set to work finding a way to whatever secret cache Garak had created. It took the better part of an hour, but at last the metaphorical latch popped. A message. 

_Julian,_

_I regret deeply – I cannot convey to you how much – that I have not been able to contact you until now. And that indeed I could not even let you know that I was leaving the station or where or with whom I was going. But as I'm sure you know, given the time and circumstances, there was no way I could have done so without jeopardizing the safety of us both._

_I do wish I had been able to take you with me. Truthfully we could use a second doctor, given the level of casualties we've been seeing. Vakat performs admirably and stoically, for hours on end, but he does need more support. A great pity your Federation could not bend its rules in times of war._

_Still, Vakat proved his mettle beyond a doubt in our most recent adventure. Although before I describe that, I must backtrack and tell you where I've found myself. Essentially, when it was time to evacuate, and the Federation was pulling out, I headed to the Defiant and asked – I did not beg – that they take me. I volunteered as crew. Where else did I have to go? So, yes, my dear, Elim Garak has been working on a Federation ship – right on the bridge. I've also been doing map work, encryption, de-encryption, contributing to strategy, whatever is required. Even tailoring._

_Back to the story of our latest adventure. Things were going badly in the war. Just for one example, the Seventh Fleet came out of an engagement in the Tyra system and out of 112 ships, only fourteen ships returned. You can imagine what that was doing to morale. We – Commander Sisko above all I think – were all getting quite fed up with it and wanted to be involved in something that would actually do something. Then, arriving at Starbase 375, Admiral Ross first told Sisko he was done commanding the Defiant… and then presented him with the Jem'Hadar attack ship he captured last year. We were to destroy the Dominion's main ketracel-white storage depot in the Alpha Quadrant, located deep in Dominion territory. Bold, no?_

_I could, and perhaps should, write a short story on our adventures with this stolen warship, short though they were. But for brevity's sake: We indeed took the ship to the storage facility and successfully executed our mission, barely escaping with our lives, but thinking well, we'd done it, what next? Only to have the Chief inform us that we'd blown half a dozen systems, including the core matrix, meaning no warp drive. Without that, it would take us 17 years to get back to the Alpha Quadrant._

_But it got worse! We were attacked by two Jem'Hadar ships and had to make a run into a dark-matter nebula. But before we could even get there, we were hit and Dax went down. Just as you would have been, Vakat rushed to her instantly and with the tricorder determined she had internal abdominal injuries and that possibly the symbiont was injured as well. All systems were down and Sisko asked me to check visual. And all I saw was the nearest planet rushing closer and closer._

_So, yes, we crashed that Jem'Hadar ship on what turned out to be a Class M planet. In the ocean, but not too far from shore that we couldn't lash together some rafts and swim to shore. Vakat tended to Jadzia, got her stabilized and as comfortable as could be given our limited resources. We set up in a cave. Classic survival story material, as I said._

_The story turns a bit more tense now, however, as there were also Jem'Hadar stranded on that planet, not far away. While Rom and I were out on a patrol of the surface, they captured us. We were brought before the Vorta, a loathsome creature I was forced to negotiate with. Again, for brevity, let me summarize: There was a prisoner exchange, so the Vorta could get medical attention from Vakat and a private deal from Sisko. The Vorta was down to only one vial of ketracel-white and wanted to save himself, so he set up his own men for death by telling Sisko their attack plan in advance._

_After some debate – some squeamishness on the part of Starfleet members – Sisko and I prevailed in the decision to go through with it. War is war. And so when the Jem'Hadar came – and refused an offer from Sisko I frankly thought was foolish – we gunned them down. As agreed, the cursed Vorta let us use his communications device, which the Chief had to repair, in exchange for taking him as a prisoner of war. I'd have much rather killed him._

_This might not be quite the romantic dispatch you might have been hoping for. Although frankly I don't think even you would hold such sentimental expectations in time of war. And further, you should appreciate that I'm being honest. The tale I've told above doesn't strike you as as the "web spinning" you've accused me of in the past, now does it?_

_I'm coming toward the end of this message, but first there are a few more things I'd like to report on._

_First, it's been interesting fighting in a war, on the front lines, in battleships. I've never that before. I'm not sure if you're more likely to believe or disbelieve that statement, but it's true. I was never in the military. Oh, no. Despite this, I've been accepted quite readily as bridge crew, given access to all the consoles, was helping Sisko on the Jem'hadar ships by using one of their virtual view screens. Without any training, just intuition. (I'll be smug flat out: We Cardassians are clever people.) So this has all presented a new experience._

_One thing I can tell you, which I suppose might make you feel better, if I understand human emotions correctly, is that none of it frightens me. I have been trained for dangerous situations and carried out many dangerous missions. I can handle battle stress. Frankly I think all Cardassians can._

_Speaking of Cardassians, I'll share something with you that I haven't with the crew: It's sometimes difficult for me to fight them. Not that I haven't or that I won't. I plot against the traitors who've joined the Dominion every day. But to be on the other side of a war with Cardassia is not a circumstance I ever foresaw. Even as an exile, I do have loyalties, if not to the current leadership, then to the Empire, to our People. And even though I know it's what I must do, I tell myself, I still flinch._

_Finally, two small matters. One is literally a small matter: my quarters. I have my own cabin and while it's larger than a closet, and there's room to stand, a bed, a mirror, a clothes compartment, it's still enough to trigger my problem. I try to simply walk into the room with my eyes closed, change in the dark and crawl into bed without seeing it, but sometimes I can't help thinking about it. I won't complain about it to anyone on board, but I will admit to you, I'm very grateful whenever we stop at a space station. There I can enjoy a larger quarters for a short time, and walk around. That Defiant has very little space._

_Second small matter: Your former crew mates. I must admit I am impressed with them. Sisko in particular has my complete respect. It's true I don't have the widest range of experience, but I wouldn't say most humans are like him. His decision making, his seeming fearlessness, his tactical abilities – it’s as if he were meant for this moment. But he's not the only one. Jadzia, O'Brien, even (dare I say it?) Nog have all gone "above and beyond," as I've heard you term it. I admit that regarding the behavior of non-Cardassians, there are still many things that amuse me, confuse me, and confound me, but mixed in with that is admiration._

_And now, my love, I am at the end of this message. It's fortunate that I have a partner who is able to crack the encryption method I plan on using to protect it, and that I have experience with the routing of information through covert channels. I cannot promise that there will be future messages. I hope the next time we communicate, it's in person or at the very least it's not covertly. I want to win back the station. Sisko wants to win back the station. The Federation wants to win back the station. I want to see you back at the station. We will spend time together. If there’s a long stretch where you don’t hear from me for a long time again, just imagine the things we can do together reunited._

_Far away with great fondness,_  
_Elim_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fan of both these episodes and have often wondered about Garak's perspective. So I'm happy to have to opportunity to explore it in a first-person narrative.


	4. Reunited: Sacrifice of Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs right at the end and aftermath of ["Sacrifice of Angels"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Sacrifice_of_Angels_\(episode\)), the conclusion of the 6-episode Dominion war arc that leads off Season 6. As this AU continues, Bashir is living on Bajor when Garak returns to the station, and it takes him some time to get up there and reunite with him.

Julian _finally_ had it. He'd figured it out. After a few hours on and off concentrating on the problem, he hadn't come anywhere near. But finally, with a day off, drinking tea from a canister while sitting in a park, the answer to the old vedek's puzzle had suddenly come to him. He should have known; like a Zen koan, such a matter could not be settled wity the force of directed logic. 

It was a good day, he thought, stretching his limbs across the grass. No work. In fact, it was the start of several days' holiday. The monastery wasn't far away. Why not head over to tell Vedek Barsta he'd come up with an answer? Pushing himself up onto his arms, he popped himself up to a standing position and began to amble in the direction of the monastery. 

Then he heard his name. 

"Dr. Bashir!" someone cried, far off. He turned and saw a figure waving at him from across the park. He quickly identified it as one of his medical students. 

"Dira!" he called, cupping his hands to amplify his voice. He liked the young man well enough, but really, couldn’t he have a day off? 

But now Dira was running toward him. "Doctor! I came down here looking for you. Dr. Resa said I should!"

Julian jogged over, where he met the student, who was panting lightly. "What is it? An emergency? I had my comm off, Resa told me to, I've been on so many days in a row." 

Dira shook his head. "No. Nothing like that. It's the war." He took a deep breath. "The station is truly ours again. The Dominion is gone. The Federation is back. Two hours ago."

The news jolted through Julian like a bolt of electricity. "Two _hours_ ago? And I'm just finding out?"

He started running in the direction of home. "I need to grab my things and book a shuttle _now_!"

* * *

He emerged from the shuttle airlock and headed straight for the habitat ring. It was night on the station and Garak would've gone back to his quarters to enjoy the large space and a familiar bed he'd not slept in for months. 

But when he reached the door and rang the chime, there was no answer. Thinking perhaps the man was asleep, he punched in the code and went in. He saw a bag set down on the table and an empty mug, but no sign of Garak himself. Where had he gone?

He headed back toward the turbolift, intending to search the Promenade. Perhaps Garak was in the shop or maybe at Quark's, gathered with some of the Defiant's crew. He could even be at a post-mission debriefing. Julian would find out. 

The atmosphere on the Promenade was jubilant. Many Bajorans, like himself, had come up from the planet to be reunited with loved ones or to check on their shops. As he passed the replimat, he saw it was crowded with people – crew members, security officers, civilians, children – exchanging stories, catching up, and embracing, over dinner, tea and coffee. He'd like to do the same with Garak. 

When he reached Garak's Clothier's, his stomach filled with lead. Through the closed gate, he saw the interior had been ransacked. He wondered if it had been Cardassians or if Dukat had simply allowed Bajorans to do it with impunity. Regardless of how Garak felt about his exile and his profession, this had to be a terrible blow. Yes, some of it was simply torn fabric and some loss of stock, but if the scanners and expensive machines had been damaged, it would be a financial setback. Julian quickly calculated if he could assist in the rebuilding; considering his minimal expenses on Bajor and his quite decent pay, yes, he could. Whether Garak would accept it was another matter. No doubt he'd have to force the matter.

But first to find him. He hurried over to Quark's, where he encountered a scene similar to the replimat, only noisier, with drinking and gambling in the mix. Unsurprisingly, Garak wasn't to be found, not even in a dark corner. Julian was about to leave when Rom, carrying a tray, stopped beside him. 

"If you're, uh, looking for Garak," he said, "he's not here." Leave it to Rom to state the obvious. "I mean, in the bar. He's on the station. But... he's in the infirmary."

"The _infirmary_?" Julian yelped, alarmed. How many more shocks could he take in one day? "Shit. Thank you, Rom. _Shit_!"

He wheeled around and rushed across the corridor. Rom was saying something, but Julian didn't hear for all the blood rushing past his ears. 

He entered, feeling a sense of apprehension that took him back to the time of the Empok Nor incident – worse because this time he had no idea what had happened. 

He was met by Jabara. "Dr. Bashir, you're here. Of course you are. I'll get Dr. Vakat."

Julian stood bewildered, not knowing what to do, how to stand, what to think. 

Vakat came in from a room in the back wearing a set of red surgical scrubs. The fabric was smeared with blood and ashes. Vakat looked more exhausted, more downtrodden, that Julian had ever seen him, or had ever seen any Vulcan, for that matter. Julian steeled himself to hear the worst. 

"Garak's in the back," he began.

Julian reached out an arm and steadied himself against a wall.

Vakat studied his face. "Doctor, I fear you're under a misapprehension. Your partner is well. He's in back holding vigil for Ziyal. She was killed during the Dominion pull-out."

This news did surprisingly little to relieve him. Ziyal dead? _Shit!_

"Take me to them," he requested. 

He did not rush into the room. He knew from grim experience that wasn't appropriate. Instead, following Vakat, he adjusted his civilian clothing, then, once the door opened, stepped in and let it close behind him.  

Ziyal was laid out on a table. She was fully dressed, with a charred disrupter wound in the center of her chest. If not for that, it would have appeared as though the young woman were sleeping. 

Garak, who had been sitting in the chair on the far side of the table, head bowed, looked up and blinked. He met Julian's eyes for a few moments, then glanced back down at the table. Julian let his eyes go to the same place. 

"I got a shuttle as soon as I heard," he said quietly. "That the Dominion had left the station." He glanced back up; Garak was looking at him, unblinking. "I must've been here 20 or 30 minutes, rushing about, looking for you. When Rom told me you were in the infirmary, I thought– I thought–"

Now he did rush. He rushed around the table, fell to his knees, and crushed Garak to him, with both arms. 

"Elim," he sobbed, "Elim." Tears soaked into the thick fabric of Garak's tunic. 

Sturdy arms came around him. A broad, gentle hand patted his hair. " _Ss'aavi_ ," he breathed. Garak squeezed him. "Julian." 

To hear his name on those lips after so long. He squeezed back. 

Garak set his chin on the top of Julian's head. "You came," he said, in a near whisper. "You're not dead."

Julian pulled back, taking Garak's hands. The man's blue eyes were glimmering. "Of course I'm not dead, Elim. I've been safe on Bajor. You're the one who's been in danger all these months. Why would you think I was dead?"

Garak ran a hand through his hair, rubbing out a tear with the heel as he did so. "Because I couldn't get a message from you, couldn't get any information. And the longer we were apart, the more I thought it had all been a dream, you and I. Or that it had been too good to last, and I'd come home to find you dead–" his breath hitched "–like Ziyal."

Julian leaned in resumed the earlier embrace. "I'm so sorry." From the slight muscle spasms he felt in Garak's chest, he guessed the man was crying. Knowing the Cardassian would probably be more comfortable without being observed, Julian nuzzled into Garak's shoulder. 

After a minute had passed, Julian began to stroke Garak's back. He dared to voice the question, quietly. "What happened?"

Garak stiffened. "From what's been pieced together from Dukat's shattered ramblings – he's in the brig by the way – and from Kira, it seems Damar shot her for being a traitor to Cardassia." His lover's tone had changed now; halfway between vengeful and amused, an odd mix. "Dukat had gone to collect Ziyal, to evacuate. She protested that she belonged on Bajor – and explained that she abetted the sabotage that led to the loss of the station. Dukat was furious but would have forgiven her. However, Damar had been around the corner and overheard everything. And shot her on the spot."

Julian's pressed his head into Garak's chest and sobbed. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." He turned his head this way and that, smearing his tears, then pulled away. 

"She didn't deserve that. After all–" he wiped his eyes "–she went through." He turned to the still body. "What will happen to her?" he asked softly. 

Garak's arms were still around him. "Kira is arranging for a funeral on Bajor."

Julian nodded and turned back. "I want to go."

Garak kissed him on the forehead, where his chufa would be, were he Cardassian. "Of course. I'll be there, too."

They released one another at the same time and stiffly rose. Julian reached out to straighten Garak's collar. The tailor returned the gesture, a faint smile on his lips.

"I saw you'd been up to your quarters," Julian said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Garak's lips. Their first in an eternity. He pulled back a fraction. "Must've gone up there briefly. But not eaten. Not undressed."

His lover shrugged tiredly. "No. I went here, stayed for a bit, shocked, went up for a minute, then came down again." 

Julian took up one of Garak's hands and kissed it on the knuckles. "Then how about I take you up there and make you dinner? You'll take a shower, put on some pajamas, and get in bed." 

Garak leaned in and pressed his forehead to Julian's. "And you'll stay?" 

"Yes, Elim, I'll stay."

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cardassian endearment _"ss'avi"_ is taken from one of my all-time fav Garashir fics, ["Altering Course"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5278406/), and means "part of myself."


	5. Interlude: You Are Cordially Invited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a couple weeks' hiatus for Christmas and New Year's, this story is back. For this chapter, we're on to the time frame of ["You Are Cordially Invited"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/You_Are_Cordially_Invited_\(episode\)), although honestly very little of the events in that episode show up in any detail here. Why? Because this chapter is a little different, in that I decided to take a break from angst, nail-biting suspense, and wartime love letters and go for something steamy. Hope that's something that appeals to readers. (In other words: EXPLICIT stuff ahead, you've been warned.)
> 
> Big, big thank you to [prisdreamsofsweetness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsofsweetness/pseuds/prisdreamsofsweetness) who, over on Tumblr, and via comments here on AO3, has been encouraging me so much on this story. And for this chapter actually popped up on chat while I was doing final edits wondering "Did you write? Is it done? Is it done?" LOL. I can't ask for more than that, can I? :) 
> 
> Oh, and all Cardassian anatomy based on models and vocabulary established by [tinsnip](http://tinsnip.tumblr.com/) and fleshed out (ooh, pun!) so nicely by many others.

Garak would never understand Klingons. True, he was moderately fluent in their language – a fact only the Constable was aware of – but that was different from truly getting a handle on their psyche. Klingons were both extremely simple and yet complex in a way Garak not put his finger on. Humans, for all they had vexed him, were easier for him to understand.  

Take for example this wedding. Considering the fact only one party was Klingon (and he raised largely on Earth) and that the rites were being carried out on a former Cardassian space station, everyone involved seemed to be going _awfully_ far in terms of authenticity. The _Kal'Hyah_ for example. When Garak had gotten wind of it through Quark, his vague description of it as a "pre-nuptial bonding ritual" hadn't nearly satisfied his curiosity. So he'd looked it up and discovered the truth. For all he'd tried to stop himself from thinking of Klingons as barbarians caught up in a culture beneath that of a warp-age civilization, at times like this, Garak had to admit the term applied. 

Then there was Jadzia. That this exceptional, beautiful woman, with lifetimes of experience behind her, had fallen for unimaginative, prune-juice-drinking Commander Worf was scarcely something Garak could credit. Julian referred to this as a case of "sour grapes," an idiom he'd had to explain. Garak had countered that he'd never had any romantic interest in the Trill, but simply objected to the pairing on principle. Julian had scoffed and pointed out that at the very least Garak had sour grapes about the fact that Jadzia wasn't going to him for her wedding dress.

It would all be behind them soon enough, however. Julian's shuttle would be arriving in less than an hour. After lunch in one of the restaurants, he'd bring Julian to the shop to try on the outfit he made him for the wedding. He knew the man's measurements quite well by now but he wouldn't be a tailor if he didn't check. Afterward he planned on letting Julian succeed in “persuading” him to close the shop in favor of a diverting afternoon spent in his quarters. In the evening there was the party up at Jadzia's, which he knew Julian was overjoyed to have been invited to. Garak admitted that a party thrown by Jadzia, without Worf, might be interesting. And then tomorrow – the wedding! 

* * *

Lunch had been lovely, the fitting had been splendid - perfect, no adjustments needed - and now they were nearing his quarters in the habitat ring. 

Garak enjoyed the feeling of Julian's warm hand around his and squeezed it gently as he paused to tap in the security code at his door. 

"I'll get us something to drink," he offered, moving toward his tiny kitchen area. "What would you like?" 

Julian had moved toward the bed. Well, no doubt what he would _like_. "Perhaps a spot of that brandy Resa gave me. Assuming there's some left?"

As if Garak would pilfer his lover's Bajoran brandy! He opened his liquor cabinet and pulled out the small bottle. After fixing both the doctor and himself drinks, he moved towards the bed. 

"Could you pop this in?" Julian asked, offering a datarod. At Garak's inquiring brow ridge, his partner smirked. "It's music. Humor me."

After handing over the brandy, he did as bid, tapping a couple of console keys to set the music to play. 

"Bajoran classical flute," he noted, turning back and sitting down on the bed. "Something our ears agree on." 

Julian raised his glass and Garak chinked his against it in silent toast. 

He was about to remark on the insipid custom as well as whether there would be more at the wedding when Julian finished off his brandy and gave him a tender look. "Elim."

"Yes, Doctor?" he prompted. Said doctor shook his head minutely. " _Julian_."

His lover smiled and set down the brandy. "Finish your kanar, dear."

He took a slow sip. "Is there some rush?" He held the rim of the glass against his chin. 

"Well, that depends," Julian answered, employing a grin. "We don't _have_ to rush, but I know what's ahead, and think maybe we _should_."

Julian eyed Garak's glass and almost unthinkingly, he took another sip. 

"You see," the human said, sidling closer to Garak and wrapping an arm across his lower back, "I have plans."

The Bajoran flute hit a high note, and suddenly Garak was in quite a rush indeed. 

Half-turning, Julian took the kanar away, setting it on a side table before returning to trace the ridges on Garak's face with eager lips. 

"Elim," he whispered before touching down on an earlobe, "I've been thinking." A series of tiny caresses from the tip of the man's tongue. "Much as I enjoy–" a nip to the ridge leading to his cheek "–everything we do together–" a tongue trailing down to his chin "–I feel that for all the pleasure you've given me, there's a backlog of pleasure I owe back to you."

Garak carded a hand through Julian's hair. "Oh, you've given me _plenty_ of pleasure," he purred. 

Julian's hand came to rest, then slide, against Garak's crotch. "Not the kind I am I intend to bring you tonight." 

For a moment, the tenor of his lover's voice, the feel of that hand, and the promise of pleasure made him feel as if he might evert that instant, but his self-control had the upper hand, so instead he said, "Show me."

When he recalled that afternoon later – and he recalled it _many_ times, how could he not? - the first moves were hazy. Taking off their clothes, arranging the bed, adjusting the lights, any further remarks from Julian – it was an impenetrable blur. 

What he did know is that he'd ended up half-propped up in bed, completely naked, legs parted, with Julian kneeling in between saying he was ready to begin. 

"Begin what?" Garak had asked. 

" _Shh_. No questions. Close your eyes, at least at first. I want you to lie still and just _feel_."

Garak had indulged his lover and closed his eyes. Relaxed his arms against his sides. Alright, he'd _feel_. 

A single fingertip slowly traced the line of his _ajan_ from bottom to top. Paused. And traced again, bottom to top. Paused. Returned to the bottom and pushed against the flesh just slightly more, then continued all the way up. _Pause. Repeat. Pause. Repeat._ Then a pass with slightly more pressure, beginning to nudge open his slit. 

"Ah, Julian, this is sweet," he thought, "but we are far, _far_ beyond this type of elementary petting," he thought – just as a warm wave of pleasure sank down from Julian's finger, deep into the muscles of his _ajan._  

Garak exhaled slowly, almost as a moan, and yet Julian was doing practically nothing. Just simple strokes. And yet it was so... _enticing_. He tightened his muscles and released even as the finger continued to venture inward. He had the growing feeling his _ajan_ was growing hungry, appetite whetted – as though somehow Julian was coaxing some small, hidden creature into life. Garak had to speak up. 

He opened his eyes and began to follow Julian's motions with his hips. "I'm feeling that," he murmured. "More."

"More?" Julian clarified, still fingering the slit. 

Garak pressed the bottom of his ajan against Julian's finger, clenching the muscles. "More," he whispered hoarsely. 

"Close your eyes, love."

And so it continued. Julian did not give Garak as much as he wanted, but forced him to appreciate what he _was_ receiving. The anticipation was everything. When would Julian decide to open him up? And, once his finger, then two fingers, then three fingers, were inside, what next? The little creature grew hungrier by the second. _How soon? How hard?_

Julian had never been with a Cardassian before taking up with Garak, nor had Garak been with any humans. Together they had learned one another's bodies, instructed one another on the relevant anatomies, and developed techniques that worked to their mutual satisfaction. But what Julian was doing now was without precedent. Garak hadn't taught him anything like this. He couldn't have, because he'd never personally experienced such a thing, and what he'd read he'd rather dismissed as exaggeration. It wasn't. 

Just when Garak was beginning to wonder if the creature between his legs might actually rear up and bite his lover's fingers, Julian cupped Garak's hips and guided him to move down the bed and lie flat. Opening his eyes, Garak saw his lover staring at him heatedly, eyes clouded with lust. Then, forearms planted on the bed and rest of his body who knows and who cared where, Julian entered Garak with his tongue. 

This wasn't the first time the young man had made this particular move. It had taken a number of encounters before Julian had been bold enough to bring up the possibility. But, yes, Garak had enjoyed such attentions from his human lover before. 

But not like _this_. What on previous occasions had been delightful, diverting, and led to a quick blooming was now something else entirely.

This sensation couldn't be described using any mere emotion but required a color: _red_. Deep red. A haze of deep red marked with electric sparks and swirls of violet. 

The technique Julian had been using before was in play once more; everything slow, everything good. As before, he and the greedy beast wanted faster and deeper. But had to wait until it was delivered. 

Julian's hands scrabbled around Garak's hip ridges as he licked and sucked the back of Garak's deep _ajan_ , and then as he bumped the base of Garak's _prUt_ with his nose. Then he kissed it, sucked it, bathed with his tongue. Only to return to exploring the wet crevasses of the _ajan_ –

But now Garak was blooming. So fast it was like a switchblade. And instantly the rain came, outward onto Julian's face, and inside, like a cauldron of white heat pouring from his center out. Wave after wave. He sang his lover's name even as he grasped the man's shoulders, fists shaking. 

As soon as he had a modicum of control over his limbs, he hauled Julian up by the armpits until they were kissing. He let lose a string of Cardassian profanities before managing the more articulate, "Julian, my dear, where did you _learn_ that?"

He began to kiss down the side of his lover's neck, not expecting an answer, when Julian drew back and said, "Well, actually I did research on–"

Garak pursed his lips. "Not now." And to further forestall debate, he reached down Julian's long, lean body and found that oversized, ever-vulnerable and presently eager _prUt_ of his. "I think now you've paid off whatever 'debt' you owe and then some. So let me even it out."

* * *

By the time of Jadzia's party that night, debts were evened up several more times. As for how Julian had come upon his new skills, he confessed he'd actually had help from a couple of excellent books written by a human woman. "I'm not implying you're a woman, Elim," he'd apologized, unnecessarily, "but after some thought, it occurred to me that some of what she'd written would have to transfer over." Oh what a treasure this augmented human was. 

As for the party, it was a rather much for Garak – mostly too crowded by far – but for Julian's sake, he stayed for a number of hours, mostly standing in doorways or far from where people were crowded. However, he did enjoy the music, sampled several types of alcohol of which he'd never had the pleasure, and he got to see Julian dance. It was when the man had been gyrating to drum rhythms for half an hour than Garak finally decided they needed to go back to his quarters. Julian could "dance" there. 

And the wedding the next day? Garak would never understand Klingons. 


	6. Worst Nightmare: Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken me three entire weeks to finish, and it’s really no wonder. Between the complexity of what I had to cover, lots of uncomfortable dialog, being overloaded at work, the fact that it ended up coming it at over 6,000 words (!), and the UNFATHOMABLE fascist regime that’s just come in and started wrecking my country, it was a real slog. But I did get it done, and I’m happy with it.
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter, we come up to a nasty episode of DS9, that I decided I'd play off as an AU. That's right, as you can see from the chapter title, it's "Inquisition." Some of the dialogue, right at the end, is lifted directly, word-for-word, from that episode, with a few adaptations. But I've shifted things around. It was difficult, but I managed. I hope?
> 
> Once again, thanks to [prisdreamsofsweetness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsofsweetness/pseuds/prisdreamsofsweetness) for their encouragement on this. They checked in on me several times. Every time I had to say I still wasn't done. But finally I am! On to the next one!

Julian stepped out into the warm evening and, closing his eyes, breathed in deeply. The air smelled of the spring flowers that bloomed throughout his neighborhood. Even a year after arriving from DS9, he still found simple pleasure in the everyday experiences of living on a living, breathing planet rather than in a sealed container. Trees, soil, sunlight, birdsong, scurrying animals, clouds, rain.

He heard footsteps approaching and opened his eyes. Hatus Pramur, a neighbor he knew and liked and, as it happened, had wanted to speak to.

"Pramur!" he called out.

The short, broad-chested man strolled up to the entrance of Julian’s small townhouse. "Ah, Riyad. Out enjoying this fine evening?"

The man used his false name, as did all his neighbors; Julian had moved to the neighborhood when the Dominion occupation had made it necessary for him to hide. They did not know his real backstory, although they didn't know he had frequent visits from a Cardassian and worked at the hospital.

"Yes," Julian replied. "It's lovely to come home to. And fortuitous I picked this time, because I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh? What about?" Pramur asked.

"Nothing major. Just wanted to let you know I'd be away the next couple of days," he explained. "Medical conference at Lake Brankuva."

Pramur smiled knowingly. "Ah, a vacation. Good, you're due for one."

"It's a medical conference!" Julian sputtered. "With the war attendees are almost exclusively Bajoran, but I expect it will still be an excellent—"

"—Vacation," Pramur finished. "So now that I've got that message, I'll make sure the house is undisturbed. Anything else?"

"Hmm." He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit on a pair of flower pots perched on either side of his front door. "Well, maybe you or Alka could remember to water these?"

He bent and lifted one of the pots, containing a Bajoran orchid that was only alive because he'd had so much help from Elim.

"Oh, your valdrusi," Pramur said. "Of course. No worries."

Julian set the first and then the second at the bottom of the entrance steps. "I've put them here so it'll be easier to remember if you just walk by."

"I'm sure I can remember, but alright," his neighbor remarked.

Just then a door slammed and both men turned to see Alka on the top steps of the family home, face red and tear-streaked. They rushed over.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Pramur said gently, approaching the steps. "You did it again, didn't you?"

The six-year-old's knees and hands were scraped, obviously from a fall. The torn flesh was just beginning to bleed.

Julian squatted down and brushed the girl's cheek. "Why don't you come with me?" Julian offered. "I've got a med kit and can patch you up in a few minutes."

Alka bit her lip and looked to her father, who nodded. He headed back to his home and they followed behind.

"I don't mind you playing, and play as rough as you like," Pramur was saying, "I just wish you'd stop jumping off the back porch. You _can't_ fly."

* * *

The next morning as he strode up to the medical complex, bag over his shoulder, Julian felt terrible. Not sick, but very tired, and he had no reason to be. He hadn't stayed up late. After taking care of Alka's abrasions, he'd had a video chat with Garak, packed his things, done a bit of reading, then turned in. And woken up feeling like he'd been up half the night. Still, at least he hadn't slept through his alarm. He wanted to come in to work and prepare some materials for the conference before catching the shuttle. Perhaps we could have a nap on the flight, or at his lodging before the conference got underway.

He was inside the building, walking toward his office when, in his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of someone in a Starfleet uniform. He kept walking — none of his business — only to hear a voice call out a few moments later: "Riyad, there's someone to see you in my office."

Julian turned on his heel and entered Resa's office, familiar terrain, and examined the unfamiliar visitor. He was an older man, with tanned skin, high cheekbones, and close cropped, short hair.

"Take a seat," the man said, gesturing to one of the two office chairs in front of Resa's desk. "My name is Luther Sloan," the man announced as Julian took a seat. "Deputy Director, Starfleet Internal Affairs. I believe you're familiar with our function, Dr. Bashir."

Julian opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Sloan overrode him with a casual wave of his hand. "We know all about your background, your career in Starfleet, why you're here, your alias, Riyad Khayyat. And we know Dr. Artak here knows as well, so let's all just speak freely."

 _Freely_. Julian had the distinct feeling he'd been caught in a trap.

"I see," he said, his syllables clipped. "Well, what brings you here? I'm not in Starfleet. I was 'let go' a year ago, as I'm certain you know."

Sloan gave an oily smile that showed his teeth. "Well, just because you're not in Starfleet doesn't mean you can't answer some questions for me."

"What kind of questions?" Julian asked. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Sloan stood with a hand on the back of the empty chair next to Julian. Resa, who hadn't spoken since Julian entered the room, sat silent behind the desk.

"Let me be frank, doctor," Sloan began. "I'm heading a team investigating a possible security leak of Starfleet intelligence, critical to our war efforts, to Cardassia."

Even as his blood froze — they thought he was a spy! — Julian maintained a calm facade. "I see. And your investigation has led you here?"

"Yes. Although we did stop and have a chat with Commander Sisko and a few others on DS9," Sloan admitted. "They were helpful and spoke well of you, but I was sure going to you personally was the best way."

"The best way to what?"

Sloan tapped on his communicator and two security officers stepped into the office. He then gestured for Julian to get up.

"They'll be taking you to your office," he said. "Wait there until I summon you. For now, I'd like to talk with Dr. Artak."

"Resa? Why do you need to talk to him?" he asked.

Sloan sighed but then simply shook his head. "Go with my men, doctor. You and I will talk plenty later. I promise you can ask questions."

* * *

The hour and a half that followed was miserable. Aside from a cup of tea, he’d skipped breakfast, planning on an early lunch on the way to the shuttle. The longer he waited, the hungrier he became. And the more bored.

For the first half hour he did what he did originally come to the office to do: prepare some research files to work on during the trip, look into the backgrounds of some of the presenters, so we could ask more targeted questions, and generally prepare for the conference.

Once that was done, however, everything was just killing time. He went through accumulated messages, feeling wearied by the fact that some messages could've sworn he already answered and deleted were still staring back at him. But he may as well take care of them if he was being forced to waste his time. What was taking so long?

Finally, the door opened. One of the guards silently indicated he should follow down the hall. Sloan awaited him in the larger of the unit's two conference rooms. As Julian entered, a second guard left with what appeared to be the remnants of breakfast. Julian's irritation flared.

"Dr. Bashir, glad to see you," Sloan said in greeting. "Have a seat."

As he crossed the table, Julian caught the scent of what he was almost positive was buttered scone.

"I'm quite ready to answer whatever questions you have, Deputy Director," he announced, with the least amount of resentment he could manage.

"Excellent." Sloan picked up a PADD. "None of these should be too hard."

And the questions _weren't_ difficult, just _irritating_. A series on his genetic enhancements and then even more mundane queries on the circumstances of his departure from DS9. All of these were or record.

There was a bit of a shift as Sloan started in with questions about Julian's relationship with Garak. He began at their first meeting and progressed onward, through the removal of the wire to the basics of their internment at Camp 371.

All painfully routine. That is, until: "But until after you had already been exposed as an Augment and expelled from Starfleet, you two had never engaged in a sexual relationship?"

Julian narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me? No, no, we hadn't.  I believe I've been clear on that. We didn't have any romantic relationship prior to my discharge from Starfleet." He put his hands flat on the table. "I've explained this. And frankly don't even know why I have, since most of it is on the record."

"Steady, Dr. Bashir, you're doing just fine," Sloan assured him. "We really just want to verify that all the information we have on you is correct. We'd like to avoid mistakes."

Julian wanted to say that the entire interview had been a mistake, but hoping to charm his way to a quick exit, opted for another tack. "Well, everything seems in order. So can I assume we're done?"

"Oh, yes. For now, that is." Sloan rose from chair and Julian followed suit. "You’ll want some breakfast now I'm sure. It's waiting in your office."

The door opened and a guard stood waiting. "After you've eaten, have some rest and we will talk some more."

"More?" Julian asked. "What else is there to talk about?"

"Everything you haven't told me so far."

The guard began to walk away and Sloan gestured at Julian that he should follow.

* * *

Breakfast was Cardassian. Specifically, it was salted porridge so thickly mixed with regova eggs it was served on a plate. Slathered in yamok sauce of course. How utterly dreadful. Why would they give him this? At least there was red leaf tea.

When he tried to convince the guard to bring him something else, he'd been ignored, and so for twenty minutes, after the guard had left, he'd attempted to force some of the porridge down, in between gulps of tea. Garak occasionally enjoyed this particular dish, but thankfully only offered Julian what Cardassian food he knew his partner enjoyed. But there was no helping this; Julian managed about a fifth at the plate before giving up.

Feeling at loose ends, he eyed his travel bag. He'd packed some things from home — oh, like that enigma tale he'd promised Garak he'd read. Promised more than a month ago. Just on his way out the door he'd decided he might try actually getting to it and had popped back inside to snag it off the table in the living room.

But when he looked for it in the outer pocket of his bag, where he'd put a couple of other PADDs, it wasn't there. He knew that's where he'd put it. His memory was faultless. Still, he searched the remaining compartments of the bag. He checked the other tablets, in case he'd grabbed the wrong one. No, these were exactly the ones he'd picked. But the novel was missing.

Where was it? Since he knew he'd put it in the bag, and he knew he hadn't taken it out, that left only one possibility: someone had taken it while he'd been out of the room, meeting with Sloan. But why? Because it was from Garak?

He wished he had more tea, but there was nothing for it. He didn't suppose the guard outside was going to act as his waiter. So instead he once again sat at his desk and checked his comms.

Except for one rather generic Federation war update, nothing new had come in. No test results, no health bulletins, nothing. Given the hour, this was unusual. These should have arrived even if he was away, or known to be on his way to a conference. Which he should have been by now. At this rate he was surely missing his shuttle.

Just then a message signal sounded. "Resa! Thank you! I've been feeling quite abandoned."

Resa appeared in the viewscreen, seated in his office looking perturbed. "What's going on, Julian?"

"I have no idea," he replied truthfully. "It gets stranger by the minute. And I don't understand why I'm even involved, since I'm not in Starfleet. What gives them the right?"

Resa rubbed his brows tiredly. "I feel the same. Do you know that after you came in and were escorted to your office, I was grilled for 45 minutes on your loyalty and character?"

Julian blanched. "What?"

"It's true." Resa stretched his neck and looked up at the ceiling before continuing. "That Sloan character wanted to know how committed you were to your position here, what I knew of your relationship with Garak, what you seemed to think about the Occupation and the war."

"And what did you tell them?" Julian asked, after a beat.

"The truth, Julian. You needn't worry." Resa flashed a smile.

Just then the door opened. “Deputy Director Sloan wishes to speak with you again," one of the guards announced tonelessly.

Julian turned back to the viewscreen. "Sorry, I have to go. Sloan."

"I understand. Well, best wishes."

He had the feeling he would need them.

* * *

"Did you enjoy the breakfast I ordered you?" Sloan asked, as soon as Julian sat down. They were now in the smaller of the unit's two conference rooms.

"It wasn't exactly what I would have preferred, but I ate some," he replied grudgingly.

Sloan regarded him steadily. "I'm surprised to hear that, doctor. After all, it's well known that you have a taste for Cardassian."

Only because he had steeled himself before the meeting, anticipating psychological warfare, did Julian refrain from lashing out.

"I really don't see how that's anyone's business," he said, repeating his stance from the earlier interview. "Yes, I have a long-standing relationship with Elim Garak. Yes, we've been in an intimate relationship for over a year. I also dealt with other Cardassians on many occasions in my duties as a Starfleet officer and socially. Your point being?"

Sloan blinked and exhaled slowly through his nose. "You're an intelligent man, doctor. In fact, that description is a tremendous understatement, an insult even. And yet you don't see my ‘point’?" The man's mouth slid into an unfriendly smile. "I told you within a minute of meeting you — I'm investigating a possible security leak of Starfleet intelligence, critical to our war efforts, to Cardassia. I don't need to connect the dots for you."

He really didn't. "You think I'm a spy?"

"Aren't you?" The man was infuriating. And now, going in for the kill apparently. "You've a known history of playing spy games in the DS9 holosuites. You've even played them with Elim Garak."

Julian felt as if he'd swallowed a stone. "How can you possibly know that?"

Again the oily smile. "Does it matter? We know. And if you used to 'play' at being a spy, why not actually _become_ a spy? Especially with such persuasive recruiters."

"Recruiters? You mean _Garak_?" The stone in Julian's stomach grew larger. "He's being working for Starfleet and the Federation. You're accusing him of being a spy too?"

"It's quite possible — he's loyal to Cardassia, whatever his outward status as an ‘exile’ – has flipped over his lover."

Sloan was a snake. Julian wanted to strangle him.

"Or," the snake continued, "you could be working for the Dominion directly. You were in their custody for a month. They could have planted instructions in your mind without you even knowing it. You might be working and not even aware of it. We don't know what their psychneuro-tech is like."

"It sounds like you've already judged me guilty." His voice was cold. Like his blood. He hadn't felt this cornered since the incident with Dr. Zimmerman, although here, he had nothing to hide.

Sloan slid up out of his chair. "I wouldn't go that far, but I certainly wouldn't call you innocent." He walked to the door and rapped on it once. A guard appeared and stepped in. "Take him to isolation," he ordered.

"What!" Julian barked. But another security man had appeared and pinned his arms behind his back while the first one cuffed him. Sloan pushed him into the hall. "Sloan! You can't do this! It's unlawful!" Where were they taking him? How could he get a message out to get help? "Resa!" he yelled. "Resa!"

But no friendly face arrived.

* * *

Hours later, was lying on a cot in an isolation cell. These days such cells were normally used only on a very temporary basis. But the Bajoran hospital still had several and Sloan had known exactly where they were.

The cell was a good deal more comfortable than the one he'd been kept in at Camp 371. The bed was soft, as was the lighting. The walls weren't harsh metal. On the not so bright side, Julian was so hungry he would have gladly eaten some of the sludge the Dominion had served up as food.

By now he knew what was being done to him. Psychological warfare. The isolation, nominal food, and increasingly stressful interrogations were textbook. How could this possibly be happening to him? Captured again, and this time by Starfleet Internal Affairs? Or so Sloan claimed. It didn't make sense.

Such were his thoughts as the door groaned open, admitting Sloan, one of the guards, and standing behind them looking uncomfortable, Resa. The guard stepped forward and placed a tray on the bed beside him: a glass of water and two buttered scones. The guard stepped out of the room, then closed the door behind him.

"Go ahead," Sloan urged, motioning at Julian's repast. "You must be thirsty, and I still have some questions. I wouldn't want you to lose your voice."

 _No, of course you wouldn't, you snake_ , he thought darkly. "I see. And why is Dr. Artak here?"

"Because I have some questions for you concerning Bajor and Cardassia," he replied. "Specifically, Bajor and _Garak_. And exactly what he might have done here, in the days of the Occupation."

And so began a half hour of intensely uncomfortable questioning. First it was questions he could answer, such as how long Garak had been on DS9 and what he'd been doing in that time. Then it moved on to what his now-lover had gotten up to on the surface. The shuttle incident had come up; Sloan had obtained records of it from Julian's medical logs and apparently Garak's medical records.

Julian explained, to Sloan and Resa both, that all three stories had been fabrications designed to throw Julian off the scent of the real truth of Garak's exile and push him away. But Sloan didn't seem to believe him and Resa — well, he had stepped across the room to be as far from Julian as possible.

Then came the insinuations. That Garak was what so many suspected — a Cardassian spy, who loathed Bajorans and only pretended to be harmless, to be a friendly tailor. He'd arranged for his human lover to find a new life in Bajor as a new way of information gathering. The relationship was a sham, something Garak was only pretending as a cover.

Julian stopped talking, whatever Sloan said or asked. He drank the glass of water slowly.

"Nothing more to say?" Sloan asked, smirking.

Julian glared.

"Those scones are your dinner." He went to the door. Resa, who hasn't spoken a word throughout, followed. "I'll see you later."

* * *

He came to awareness slowly. But once he opened his eyes and felt the bed he was lying on, he bolted up straight. Goodbye, isolation chamber on Bajor — and hello to quarters on board a Cardassian starship. He’d recognize the design of the room, the bed, the furniture anywhere.

How had it come to this? Not just the events since he arrived at work, but specifically this situation? Something had knocked him out. The scones? He hasn't tasted anything. Then there was the question of the dosage. His augmented body was more resistant to poisons and various drugs than a normal human's. What could they have used on him?

His thoughts were cut off, however, when the door swished open and in walked an unfamiliar gul in full military uniform.

"Glad to see you've awakened, Dr. Bashir," he began. "It was difficult for us to estimate the correct dosage to give to an Augment, but I see we must have judged it correctly. I trust you are experiencing no ill effects?"

Julian got up off the bed and straightened his shirt. "You mean besides the fact I've been kidnapped and I'm now on a Cardassian warship against my will?"

The gul chuckled lowly. "Oh, that. Well, you wouldn't understand at the moment why you're here. But you will, soon. Just as you'll remember me. My name is Krem Lamassa. We've known each other for a couple of years now."

"No, we haven't, "Julian said with certainty. "I've never seen you in my life, and I have an eidetic memory, in case you're not informed."

"Oh, but I _am_ informed of that. I know everything about you. But you don't know everything about yourself." Lamassa waved a Cardassian PADD in Julian's direction. "Here are your records, including your service to the Cardassian empire." He passed the PADD over.

As Julian scanned through it, never so grateful in his life he had finally learned Cardassian, the man continued. "Which is why you're here. With your discovery by Starfleet, we likely need to recall you from service. It's no longer safe for you to operate. We will be recalling Garak as well, of course."

The records on the PADD matched what the gul was saying, but it was all fabricated. There was no way anyone could convince Julian otherwise.

"This is all a lie. All of it." He spoke with absolute conviction. "Garak and I are in touch daily. And it's impossible for me to go 'missing time.' You're trying to make me swallow a fabrication, trying to make me doubt my own mind."

"How can you be so sure?" Lamassa taunted. "With the help of the Dominion, we could have gotten inside your head deep."

"You didn't." Julian crossed his arms and cocked up his chin.

The gul eyed him assessingly. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not ready to be brought out."

Julian stiffened. He sensed a threat. "What's the alternative?"

"Wipe your knowledge of your participation and return you to Bajor," he said. "Our technology allows us to do that quite exactly," he soothed, when Julian bristled. "You will retain all your other memories, knowledge. But anything that's hidden to you now will remain so, and no amount of Starfleet’s prying, even torture, will be able to retrieve it."

"The Federation does not engage in torture," Julian growled.

"Ah, then what has Sloan been doing to you the past day then, hmm?"

And before Julian could answer, Lamassa produced a hypo and swiftly injected it into his neck. The room disappeared.

* * *

He woke up in his own bed. On Bajor. At this point, was it even surprising?

Despite a headache, he got up. After a quick trip to the toilet, he decided that before anything else, he wanted a breath of fresh air. Stepping out, he found it was late afternoon. Of the day after he'd set out for his conference? He was disoriented to say the least. But it was good to be outside.

He was about to duck inside and start comming people - Resa, Garak, Sisko, the conference people - when he spotted Alka skipping down the lane.

"Hi, doctor!" she greeted him, hopping to a dramatic stop in front of him. "You're back!"

He smiled at the little girl. She was always full of spunk. "Alka. You're all healed up I see."

She looked at him, confused. "Healed up? From what?"

Julian furrowed his brow. "You jumped off your porch again not two nights ago. You limped over here and I had to patch you up. I knew you'd heal up quickly, but surely you remember."

"Don't be silly," Alka giggled. "Don't make things up. It's not nice. I didn't fall. Not since my birthday, and that was a month ago. Daddy took me to the clinic for that."

Julian frowned. I didn't add up. But he wasn't going to argue with a six-year-old. So after a few more pleasantries, he let her go and stood on his steps, wondering. Had being knocked out several times done something to his memory?

But then he glanced down to the bottom of the stairs. The potted plants he’d moved down so that Pramur would remember to water them were missing.

He slowly turned around, already knowing what he would find. The pots were sitting behind him, on either side of the door. Little bits of natural debris had gathered around their bases, but there was no trace of the dragging marks he made when he moved them two days prior.

"This isn’t real," he muttered. "None of it's real," he said with conviction. "It's all been a trick. _All of it._ The last two days."

The entire scene disappeared. He found himself in a holodeck.

* * *

Sloan was there, dressed in a all-black suit made of leather or its replicated equivalent. He was  flanked by the very same two guards who been at the hospital. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and a sly grin on his face.

"We knew you'd figure it out," he said. "In fact we thought you might figure it out even earlier, but we did a good job with all the details. Except for these two last at your house, which spoiled things."

Julian was curious despite himself. "How did you get it wrong, Sloan?"

"The girl's injury and you moving those pots, occurred after we had scanned every last item and detail in your home, so in effect, they hadn't been saved to the holodeck."

Julian's mind rushed through all he'd just experienced. "Those times I blacked out," he said. "You were changing the scene? Or sleeping yourselves?"

"Very good, doctor." Sloan began an arc, as if to circle around him, then stopped, as if thinking better of it. "It took us weeks to work out the entire scenario. For example, in the hospital isolation chamber, the drugs in the scones – which we rightly calculated you wouldn't eat until we'd left — made you drowsy enough to nod off, but it was a gas pumped into the chamber that put you out for hours."

"Until I woke up on that supposed Cardassian warship," Julian seethed.

"That's right," Sloan said, now slowly continuing his arc, so that Julian turned, to keep him in his sights. "We were on the fence about including that sequence in your testing, but ultimately decided that would be a strong indicator of your loyalty."

Julian was nonplussed. " _Testing_? What you do mean, testing?"

Sloan stopped his pacing. "This was all a test. In fact, it's best we get the results now." He nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward, some sort of small device in his hand.

When Julian took a step backward, despite himself, Sloan too encroached on his space. "Don't be afraid. We have no intentions of hurting you. I just need to remove an implant from behind your right ear."

Julian's hand flew to his skull, but felt only hair. Implant? He thought of Garak.

"I tell you what," Sloan said in what Julian supposed passed for “soothing” to a torturer. "Why don't you do the honors? Go ahead, doctor. It's only a neuro-synaptic relay."

He didn't like where this was going, any more than he's like anything that had happened since he'd left his house… two days ago? "You've recorded my neuroelectric responses?"

"That's correct," Sloan affirmed. "And now I'd like to check the findings in order to confirm what I already believe. That you're an innocent man. Now either you remove the relay or we will." He took the instrument from the other man and handed it over.

Feeling the tiniest bit of reassurance at being in control, Julian accepted the forceps and after briefly poking around on his scalp, located and tugged out a chip from behind his ear. He handed it to Sloan.

"Thank you." The second guard moved forward with a tricorder, which Sloan accepted. "This'll only take a moment."

Julian watched Sloan scan the chip. "Take your time. I don't seem to be going anywhere."

Not looking up, Sloan smiled his oily smile. "I'm glad to see your sense of humor’s returning. That's a very good sign."

"Of what?"

"You're beginning to relax." Sloan was still focused on the device, whose readouts Julian couldn’t see. " We subjected you to high levels of stress to ensure accurate test results." At last he looked up. "I'm glad to say the results are in your favor. Your loyalty to the Federation and to Starfleet appears to be above reproach."

"My loyalty to—? And why would you care about that? You're clearly not part of either of those organizations. Who do you work for?" Julian felt confusion merging with anger and threatening to erupt.

"As I just said. The same people you used to work for. The Federation. Starfleet.”

Julian chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't seriously expect me to believe you're with Internal Affairs, do you?"

"No, of course not," said Sloan, handing back the tricorder to his man seemingly without care. "Internal Affairs is a competent department, but limited."

Despite his exhaustion, Julian pressed on. "So which department of Internal Affairs are you with?"

"Let's just say I belong to another branch of Starfleet Intelligence." Hands free, Sloan once again stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Our official designation is Section 31."

"Never heard of it," Julian admitted.

"We keep a low profile. Works out better that way for all concerned."

Julian wanted to hit him. "And what does Section 31 do, apart from kidnapping people?"

"Simple," Sloan explained. "We search out and identify potential dangers to the Federation."

"And once identified?"

"We search out and identify potential dangers to the Federation."

The anger was rising. "And once identified?"

Sloan's men stepped forward to flank him on either side, as if sensing they might soon have to defend their boss.

"We deal with them."

"How?"

"Quietly."

 _Just like that._ Involuntarily, his mind flashed to Elim. He suspected this was exactly the type of work he had once done for the Obsidian Order. But he didn't say that out loud. Not now.

"So if I had been a Cardassian agent, a Dominion agent, what would have happened to me?" he pressed.

Sloan raised an eyebrow. "We wouldn't be standing here having this conversation."

Julian very deliberately blinked, then exhaled slowly. _Ask more question, don't explode_ , he told himself. "And Starfleet sanctions what you're doing?"

"We don't submit reports or ask for approval for specific operations, if that's what you mean. Section 31 is autonomous department, included in the original Starfleet charter."

That was impossible. "But that was two hundred years ago." His mind raced. "Are you telling me you — this Section 31 — have been working on your own ever since? Without specific orders? Accountable to nobody but yourselves?"

"You make it sound so ominous," Sloan scoffed.

"Isn't it? Because if what you say to me is true, you function as judge, jury and executioner." This was not happening. It wasn't. But the holodeck simulation was over. "And I think that's too much power for anyone."

"I admit it takes exceptional people to do what we do," Sloan went on. “People who can sublimate their own ambitions to the best interests of the Federation. People like you."

That caught him up short. " _Me_?"

"Of course." Sloan shrugged, then stretched his shoulders. "Despite your status, being cast out of Starfleet and your provisional status as a Federation citizen, you have all the qualifications to be a very useful member of Section 31. We could bring you back into the fold, as it were."

"Wait." Another slow exhale. "In those interrogations, you were calling me a traitor and now you want to recruit me?"

"Well, you're intelligent, you're resourceful, you've always been fascinated by covert operations. We discussed this before — your adventures in the holosuites."

"You're... serious. You actually intended to recruit me, thinking I'd actually come on board."

"Now you're getting it. We're on the same team. We believe in the same principles that every other Federation citizen holds dear. Now, as I said, your Federation citizenship status is shaky, but you know what I mean."

"Federation principles," Julian huffed. "You violate those principles as a matter of course."

"In order to protect them."

This seemed like a test, even more than the holosuite. A _moral_ test. "No, I'm sorry, but the ends don't always justify the means."

"Really, doctor. I'm surprised to hear you say that," Sloan countered. "You seem so self-aware. But think about it. How many lives do you suppose you've saved in your medical career?"

Sloan was keeping him off balance. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"I asked you how many people you've saved. Hundreds? Thousands?" Sloan stepped into his personal space, hands still clasped behind his back. His black leather-like uniform creaked as he moved. "Do you suppose that those people give a damn that you lied to get into Starfleet Medical, to get your medical license? I doubt it."

How Julian hated Sloan in that moment. But he said nothing, and did not raise a hand.

"We deal with threats to the Federation that jeopardize its very survival. If you knew how many lives we've saved, I think you'd agree that the ends do justify the means." Sloan's voice was steel. "I'm not afraid of bending the rules every once in a while if the situation warrants it, and I don't think you are either."

Time for the moral stand. "You've got the wrong man, Sloan."

"I don't think so," Sloan said, unblinking. "In time, you'll come to agree with me."

"Don't hold your breath. I'm happy with my life, even as an exile. And I will never join you"

Sloan stepped away. "All I ask is that when you get back to Bajor, you consider what I've said."

Julian considered. "What if I decide to expose you?"

Sloan delivered one last oily smile. "Let's just say I'm not going to lose any sleep over it. No one will believe you. Section 31 doesn't exist, officially."

Swiftly a guard stepped forward and delivered a hypo to Julian's neck. 

* * *

He woke up in his own bed. On Bajor.

 _Deja vu_. But this time, he was really home. He hoped.

After a quick trip to the toilet — he had no memory of using the facilities the entire time he'd been in custody — he went directly to the comm station in his bedroom. He rang up Garak.

"Ah, love," he said smiling, standing at the console in his shop. "It looks like you're back at home. How was the conference?"

Julian didn't smile back. "Elim, are there any customers about?"

Garak's mouth opened as if to ask a question, then shut. "No, I'm alone."

"Well, could you close up? I need to talk to you, right now. Uninterrupted."

Briefly, as Elim closed the shop entrance and presumably put up a "Closed" sign, Julian thought about his next steps. Checking in with Resa, briefly, then booking the next shuttle to the station. Talking to Sisko. Who might not believe a word he said.

As soon as his lover reappeared, Julian launched into an explanation. "I never got to the conference, Elim. I was kidnapped. By an agency I can only describe as the Starfleet equivalent of the Obsidian Order. They… played mind games with me. Which I'd rather describe to you in person, so I'll be up as soon as possible."

Garak's eyes narrowed. "Are you talking about… an agency whose name included a number?"

He knew. Of course he knew. "Yes, Elim, I am. Now, I have to go, but I just wanted to see you, hear your voice. It's something real."

"Real?" Garak queried.

"I'll explain later," Julian promised.


	7. Muffins: Tears of the Prophets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we reach the events of "Tears of the Prophets," only like all of this story, it's an AU take. Sadly, the ultimate ending is the same as on the episode, so that's a spoiler. It's sad. But there _are_ muffins and even some humor and cuteness, thus the title. So, bittersweet overall. Besides Garak  & Bashir, characters featured include Jadzia, Worf, Kira, and my Vulcan doctor, Vakat. 
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, and that the intervals between chapters seem to be getting longer. I can safely and without guilt place most of the blame for this on one Donald J. Trump, who is fucking up the world right now and really messing with my stride. I've been involved in some anti-fascist activity, a whole lot of news-reading, but also engaging in a lot of diversions to keep from going crazy. This story is something I kept meaning and wanting to work on, but then it'd be late at night and whoops! again I hadn't done it.
> 
> Once again, thanks to [prisdreamsofsweetness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsofsweetness/pseuds/prisdreamsofsweetness) for encouraging me with Tumblr notes like "How's the writing?"

Sometime between midnight and dawn Garak awoke in a bed on Bajor. For a brief moment he was disoriented, and then for another moment he wondered why he was awake in the darkness. But then all at once he was certain of two things: he was in bed with Julian and the younger man was having a nightmare. Turning onto his side, Garak saw Julian's face contorted in a grimace, his hands fisted in the blankets. 

Through some quirk of evolution, Cardassians did not suffer from nightmares nearly as much as other species seemed to, a fact for which Garak was deeply grateful. His dear Julian, however, while engineered to be different from the typical human, was certainly prey to these night terrors. Especially now, in the wake of his recent ordeal with Section 31. 

While Julian had given Garak what on the face of it seemed like a full account of his abduction, the man was undoubtedly withholding information about the ensuing bad dreams. Not that he wasn't sharing most of them, but Garak strongly suspected there were details he was leaving out, and discomforts his lover was minimizing. It certainly couldn't be to protect Garak's innocence. Was it to avoid his pity? Garak didn't know, but even if he wasn't going to press for more, he did know that he would attempt to soothe the nightmares. 

" _Ss'avi_ ," he said quietly, clasping Julian's shoulder in a way that hopefully wouldn't alarm him. "Wake up," he urged, "it's just a dream." 

In response, Julian shuddered but did not awaken. Garak gently clasped one of the doctors balled hands, then squeezed. "It's Elim. You're back on Bajor. Really and truly. Wake up."

With a gasp, Julian emerged from his nightmare and bolted into a half-sitting position. "Shit."

Garak could've made a quip about his lover's lack of eloquence, but instead reached out to stroke his stubbly cheek. He'd need to shave in the morning. 

"The same?" he asked. 

Julian exhaled and shut his eyes briefly. "Yes, the same. Worse than what actually happened. I'll be glad when my brain is done processing it."

"Is that what you think is happening? Processing? And that one day it'll be finished, like a computer finishing a computation?"

Julian laid back against his pillows again. "That's the theory neurologists have worked out for humans. And no, there's no saying whether the dreams will ever end, but they should reduce in frequency. I look forward to it."

"As do I. Now, do you think you could sleep again? Or would you like a bit of herbal tea first?"

"I think I'll risk just nodding off. But do wake me if I bother you again."

Within minutes they both drifted off. 

* * *

When Garak next awoke, he found himself alone. Sitting up and tuning in to his environment, he didn't hear Julian in the shower. However, he did note the aroma of freshly baked bread, plus coffee brewing. 

Slipping on house shoes and a robe, he headed downstairs. He would've attempted stealth but such an approach wouldn't work with his doctor; his hearing was too acute and he tended to sense when he was being observed. 

Sure enough, before Garak had even appeared in the kitchen, Julian chuckled. "Ah, here you are. I was just about to call you." 

Walking into the room, Garak spotted the man moving fresh muffins from a cooling rack into a basket. And were those warm scones on a plate beside them? He silently approached the counter to inspect. Dirty bowls, spoons and spilled flour told the story. 

He raised an eye ridge in question and while Julian smiled enigmatically, all the young man did in answer was load up a breakfast tray. Not only the baked goods but coffee, mugs, spoons, and other fixings were brought to the meal table. Which had been set with small vase displaying a single valdrusi orchid. The vase had not been in evidence the night before. 

Together they sat down and as usual, Garak tucked a napkin into his collar. "So, are you going to tell me the occasion?"

Julian reached for the coffee pot and began to pour. "Do I _need_ an occasion? It could be I simply woke up early this morning after a fitful night's sleep and decided to put my baking skills to use."

"You don't _have_ any baking skills," Garak pointed out, reaching for a muffin, "these creations notwithstanding. When did you become a baker?"

Julian shrugged the shoulder of the arm he wasn't using to pour coffee. "I first got interested a while ago, when you were away. I ended up over at Pramur’s a few times and he likes to bake." The doctor pushed a mug across the table and took a sip of his own. "But I didn't actually start working at it until a couple of weeks ago, when I knew you'd be visiting."

 _Oh._ Julian had done it again. A romantic gesture. Garak was sure that if he’d been human, he'd have been blushing like a rose. 

"You learned to bake for _me_?" He had a taste of his coffee. It was good. Julian definitely made better coffee than the replicator. "And you learned specifically so you could make me something today?"

"Yes, I did. And you want to know why." He picked up a scone and made as if to examine it, then looked back at Garak. "Because today is the first day of the Bajoran Gratitude Festival."

"I had no idea," Garak managed to say. He would have been red as a beet if he were human. 

Julian took a bite of scone and chewed, smiling, eyes sparkling. "I expected you wouldn't, but when I saw the dates were coinciding, I couldn't resist." He set the scone down on his plate and rested his hands on the table. "I know Bajorans don't celebrate the Gratitude Festival by making breakfast for one another, but for me it seemed like an appropriate gesture. I'm very grateful for you."

Garak swallowed a lump in his throat. "And I for you." 

It was when they were nearly finished with breakfast that Garak received the comm. It had turned out to be a romantic meal, punctuated by Julian actually feeding Garak a bit of muffin and insisting on kissing the crumbs off his lips. But Garak was instantly all business as he left the table and accepted the commlink from Kira. After a few minutes of discussion, he returned to the kitchen. 

"That was Kira," he announced conversationally, picking up his plate and mug and bringing them to the counter. Julian, still seated at the table, looked at him inquiringly. "A situation is heating up and they expect the Defiant to be shipping out soon, possibly within the next 24 hours. They need me to come up."

"Ah," Julian said brightly, dropping his hands onto the flat of his thighs. "Well, I'm doubly glad I got some real food into you." He pushed back his chair and began to gather the breakfast items onto the tray. 

"I'm sorry I have to go," Garak send gently, approaching the table. 

Julian was quiet, looking down as he attended his task. But then his neck snapped up. "You know, I could come with you. At least up to the station. We could spend today there. You probably won't ship out today, right?"

Garak stepped back half a pace and considered. "No, it's unlikely. You want to come up with me?" He followed Julian to the counter, where the man set down the tray.

"Yes!" He turned on his heel, grasped Garak by the shoulders, and kissed him soundly on the lips. "It's the Gratitude Festival and I have off work. So why not? I get more time with you, you with me. Maybe we could meet up for lunch with friends."

It was a good idea. Garak wasn't going to fight him on it. While Julian's romantic nature sometimes made him feel he was feel like he was being wooed like a young woman, he had to grudgingly admit the behavior was growing on him. 

* * *

They met for lunch at the Replimat. After arriving on the shuttle, Garak had gone up to Ops to catch up on the situation and possibly receive a mission briefing. Julian had gone off in the direction of the Infirmary, where Garak later found him working at a console with Vakat, his Vulcan doctor friend. 

They had just started working through their meals, their small luggage container beside them, when Jadzia and Worf approached. The Trill was grinning while her husband, naturally, was not. 

"Julian!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you'd come up." She took a seat beside the young man and patted his hand. 

"Sorry, Lieutenant Commander, I neglected to mention it," said Garak. "and if you're wondering, I didn't ask him, he _offered_ , seeing as it's the Gratitude Festival and he professes to be grateful for me."

Worf stood behind his wife, hands clasped behind his back. "It is unfortunate he cannot join you in battle," he remarked solemnly. 

Garak inhaled and pressed his lips together tightly to avoid snapping at the man. "Yes, it _is_ unfortunate. Julian would be very willing to work and we would appreciate not being separated so often."

"The doctor would not find himself in such a situation—"

Worf abruptly cut himself off as Jadzia elbowed him. "Come, sit down with us," she said, twisting around to clasp a lower arm. "You're being rude."

 _Well played_ , Garak thought to himself. He had long admired the woman. Although why she had bonded herself to the Klingon he still could not fathom. But as he had once asked Quark, was there any understand love?

Julian, meanwhile, had bent over and fished something from their luggage. Garak hadn't packed this item but recognized it instantly: a food storage container from their kitchen. 

"Since you're here, Jadzia, Worf, why don't you try one of these?" He proudly opened the container to reveal half a dozen muffins. "I made them myself this morning."

Worf squinted. "You baked them? I did not know you were interested in cooking or baking."

Julian chuckled as he drew out a muffin for himself. "I never have been particularly, until I moved down to Bajor and had more time to be ‘domestic.’ Plus, there's fresh food all around, not so much need for replicated."

Jadzia had already taken a bite of her own muffin and was chewing thoughtfully. "This is delicious. Worf, have one."

And so they sat together for another fifteen minutes or so chatting, Worf meanwhile getting up to replicate himself a glass of prune juice. When Jadzia ended up finishing two whole muffins, Julian offered to give her the rest of the container.

"Oh, doctor, don't I think it's likely the Lieutenant Commander will accept those," Garak chided amicably. "She obviously watches her trim figure."

Jadzia smile, then look down shyly. "I do like to eat," she admitted, "but I am strategic about it." She looked up again and met the doctor's eyes. "Although I guess I may have to change my habits."

"What do you mean?" Julian asked. 

Worf intervened, frowning in his wife's direction. "It is a private matter."

Going on despite him, Jadzia leaned forward and announced, "We've talked about it and decided we're going to have a baby."

"It _was_ a private matter," Worf muttered. 

"Oh, Jadzia!" the doctor gasped. "What a surprise. Wait, not a _surprise_... I mean, what _news_!"

Jadzia squeezed Julian's shoulder in a friendly manner. "You're always so cute when you're awkward."

"He is, isn't he?" Garak teased, watching his partner blush. 

"Well, anyway," the Trill began, getting up from her seat, “I actually already started talking with Vakat about it, so maybe while you're here you two could work on it. You know, the issues."

Julian smiled. "Yes, I'd like that." He gestured at the container of muffins. "So would you like any more?" 

Jadzia considered. "No, I think I'll rein myself in." She patted her husband's shoulder firmly. "Now, come on, Worf, I know this has been enough socializing for you."

The Klingon rose from his chair. "Thank you for the conversation and the muffin," he managed. 

"It was good to catch up," Garak offered as the couple left the Replimat. 

Privately he wondered if it was really such a good idea to think about having a child in the middle of a war. 

* * *

Later, as the Defiant joined other ships and set a course for Cardassia, Garak reflected back on his brief stay on the station. They weren't in battle yet, so he had time to.

They'd actually done quite a lot. After being briefed by Julian on the Gratitude Festival, he'd allowed himself to participate, withstanding the expected scowls of Bajorans. They'd both paid a visit to the shrine, where Julian had knelt at the altar and said a few words. Garak simply watched and in his mind ran through a list of things he was grateful for. Chief among them was Julian. 

With no word on an imminent departure, he'd opened up the shop, where he welcomed an above average number of customers. He wasn't sure why this had occurred, although he didn't question the sales. Julian had meanwhile been over in the Infirmary with Vakat, likely studying Trill and Klingon reproductive compatibility, although he hadn't discussed it later. But the doctor did seem cheerful when they'd met up again for dinner in Garak's quarters, so he probably had been researching. The man truly was fond of his work. 

They'd shared an enjoyable evening of intimacy, tender and yet at times so vigorous that when they'd finished, each of them had eaten another muffin. 

But now Garak had to pack all this behind him mentally. Yes, he had a partner waiting back at home for him, but it was of vital importance he remain focused on the mission. That would contribute toward keeping them all alive so they could all get back home. 

* * *

The mission had been going well before it had all gone wrong, Garak reflected. He was sure it would not be marked as a “loss” by the Federation. They had after all succeeded in taking the Chin-toka system. Now, however, something was terribly wrong. 

Garak kept working in the bridge as they returned to the station at speed. Sisko remained in his quarters, recovering from whatever fit he'd suffered amidst the attack. O'Brien was off making repairs and adjustments to the ship in wake of the battle. Kira was still in the command chair. She hadn't moved or spoken in a half an hour. 

To break up the monotony, he decided to initiate a bit of conversation. 

"Commander," he began. "I was wondering."

She turned her head and eyed him wearily. "Yes, Garak?"

"I was wondering where you, a civilian rebel, got the skill to command a starship in battle." When he saw a slight frown start to form, he quickly added, "And do it do well."

The Bajoran bit down on whatever retort she been about to make. "No real training at all, to be honest, although I did fly runabouts and shuttles."

"Hardly the same," he remarked.

The major conceded the point. "True. But you do what you have to do. That's what I've always done." She studied him thoughtfully. "You too, I imagine. You did well back there."

"Thank you," he said honestly. "I'm glad I can be part of this. Although I admit that I myself don't have experience working on a battleship."

"Still," Kira said, stretching forward and grasping her knees, "you seem quite at ease. It didn't take you long to discover that none of those platforms had their own power generator, for example."

Garak inclined his head. "As I said, I am grateful to be of service. I want the Dominion destroyed and off my world." 

They were both silent for half a minute before Garak decided to gamble and fish for a bit more information.

"Commander, he began carefully, "is there anything you can tell me, about the captain or about the message from the station?"

Kira sighed. "I'm afraid not. I... don't know what happened with the captain. I suspect it has something to do with the Prophets, but we won't really know until we're back to the station."

With his eyes alone, Garak indicated he wished her to go on. 

"And as for the message..." she said quietly, "I was asked not to pass it on, only to act on it as I saw fit. It might be related to the captain, but at this point I just don't know, and I want us to stick to facts."

This was so frustrating. They'd be back to the station soon enough. Why couldn't she just tell him? 

"Could you answer me one thing?" he asked. 

And without protest or prompting, she answered. "Julian is fine."

Well, that was one thing that didn't go wrong. And for that he was very grateful.

* * *

Arriving at the station they were assailed with one shock after another. First they learned the wormhole had inexplicably closed. Next, all the Orbs had gone dark. Then they heard about Jadzia.

He rushed to the Infirmary along with Sisko, Worf and Kira, knowing with certainty Julian would be there. 

There was no one in the main room as they entered, but that soon changed as Vakat entered, wearing a red surgical ensemble and looking somber even for a Vulcan. 

"Jadzia is fading fast," he announced bluntly. "She's been holding out for you, Lieutenant Commander Worf." He indicated the door he'd emerged from and Worf rushed past him. 

"May I...?" the captain asked quietly. Vakat nodded and Sisko also disappeared. 

Garak was about to ask where Julian was when the Vulcan doctor resumed speaking.

"The symbiont Dax has survived with minimal injury and is stable. A ship will be departing in few hours to bring it back to Trill, where it will be joined with a new host," he explained. 

"And Dr. Bashir?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate. 

"Your partner was key to saving the symbiont, Mr. Garak, and is in a room with Dax now. Once it was clear that Jadzia would not survive, we received her permission to remove it. As Bashir has experience with symbionts, he took over that part of the care."

Garak recalled the incident several years prior when Julian had been forced to transfer Dax into the failed host applicant who’d held the station hostage. That was long before they had become lovers, but the events surrounding the affair had disrupted the station severely. 

"May I see him?" he asked. 

Vakat's brow twitched in consideration. "From what I understand, that might not be a good idea. I would guess that the symbiont is undergoing severe grief and trauma. Dr. Bashir is attempting to comfort Dax. We cannot communicate directly, but I imagine he's staying in there for a time."

Garak understood. "So I should wait until he’s ready to come out," he concluded.

Vakat nodded. "I'm going to the back to change," he said. "You can go sit at the station there while you wait. There's a replicator in that break room to the side if you'd like tea or anything."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything."

The doctor inclined his head and left. There was silence in the room for a few moments until Garak was startled by the sound of Worf's raw howling. It was muffled by the walls of the Infirmary, which had been designed to contain most sounds, but the Klingon was loud and his grief. 

Garak put his elbows on the console table and rested his head in his hands. Only yesterday Jadzia had been so lovely, so vibrant. And though he didn't understand it, so in love with her husband, he in love with her. No she was gone. Why? He still didn't know. 

A few minutes later Sisko emerged from the back, eyes unseeing as he walked out onto the Promenade.  _He looks beaten_ , Garak thought to himself. 

He never got to see Worf come out from the back, but after about forty-five minutes, Julian emerged, red-eyed and looking as if all the life of been sucked out of him. 

Garak rose and took the man's hands. "Come home," he said quietly. "Get some rest."

Julian nodded bleakly and followed Garak out onto the Promenade, into the Turbolift, down the hallways of the habitat ring, and into his quarters. He didn't speak. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Julian made a beeline for the sofa and threw himself down. 

He was looking up at the ceiling and not towards his partner, but nevertheless Garak took a nearby chair and dragged it to the side of the sofa. 

"Yesterday Vakat and I started working out if... Jadzia..." he began, then paused to swallow and wipe one of his eyes. "If she and Worf could have a baby. We'd never heard of a Trill-Klingon hybrid, so we wanted to see what challenges there might be and dig into it right away."

Finally, Julian turned his head. His gaze was agonized as he reached over and took Garak's hand in his. 

"Today Vakat was busier, typical clinic day, so once you left I got back to work and did so furiously in fact, putting all of enhancements into it." Again he wiped his eyes, which had begun to tear. "And after just a few hours, working straight through lunch, I had come up with a solution and realized it would be relatively easy for Jadzia to have a baby with Worf."

Julian's grip tightened as he looked away. "I was so excited that I left the Infirmary to go tell her and by chance, she was on the Promenade. So I told her and her eyes lit up and she was so thankful. I knew she would tell Worf as soon as he got back. It was the kind of good news a doctor dreams about giving."

The young man took a deep breath and held it, stiffening. He then exhaled with a whoosh and a shiver. Garak squeezed his hand, trying to offer some kind of comfort, although what kind he wasn't sure. 

"She was so grateful," he said shakily, "that she decided, thinking of the Gratitude Festival, to go to the shrine and give thanks to the Prophets. Even though she thinks of them as 'wormhole aliens.'"

"Is that where it happened?" Garak asked, very quietly. 

Julian nodded minutely. "She was praying when Dukat walked in. Only it wasn't _exactly_ Dukat. He was possessed somehow, with red eyes, she managed to tell us. We think maybe it was a Pah-Wraith. She was standing by the Orb and he wanted to attack it. She was in the way, so he lashed out at her with some kind of horrible... fiery energy wave. It lifted her straight off the ground. Then he dropped her. After that she blacked out from the pain, but that was when all the Orbs went dark in the wormhole closed. Dukat must have beamed the off the station afterwards, because he disappeared. Someone heard the attack and rushed in shortly afterward, or we wouldn't have found her alive."

 _Senseless_ , thought Garak. Not whatever attack Dukat had launched on the Prophets – clearly that had to be strategic – but the killing of Jadzia. _Wrong place at the wrong time_ , as the Terrans say. And now what? What would the station be without the wormhole? Bajor without the Prophets? How would it affect the war?

But first, Julian. 

"I can't imagine how you must feel," he said. "After what you just described and after saving the symbiont." Julian turned full onto his side, looking fragile and stricken. "But I do know you need someone to take care of you. So I'm going to make you some tea. I'm going to make us some dinner. I'm going to put you in a hot shower and then get you into bed. Then I'll get in with you, and make sure you don't have any bad dreams."

He leaned in and kissed Julian on the cheek. He tasted the salt of tears. Letting go of the doctor’s hand, he rose and went to the kitchen. 

On the counter sat a food storage container. There were still three muffins in it. They'd offered that box to Jadzia only the day before. Without a thought, Garak put it in the disposal unit. Then he silently began to cry. 


	8. Burning Candles: Afterimage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'd hoped, got this chapter done in just a couple days, rather than the 2-3 weeks it took the prior two. Far less angst and complications. Meanwhile, for plot, this one is retelling of the episode ["Afterimage"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Afterimage_\(episode\)), only from Julian's POV. He's been on the planet while all the drama was taking place. Then he's tipped off to it and has to investigate. He also explains an old idiom. 
> 
> Again, thanks [prisdreamsofsweetness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsofsweetness) for being my cheering section.

Julian had been so terribly busy. Busy with clinic work, busy moving forward with research, busy teaching a small class of Bajoran med students. He hadn't had much downtime these last couple of weeks, and when he'd had it, he'd mainly used it for quiet evenings at home. He'd had the computer read books out loud to him as he cooked, baked or stretched out on the sofa. He’d also checked in with Garak of course. But his partner had been busy too, breaking enemy codes, so they kept their messages brief and sweet. Things would have to slow down sometime, right?

That night, however, he decided to call up Kira. Something had come up at work, a Bajoran cultural issue, and he thought he might have better luck getting an answer out of her than from his coworkers. Plus, it had been a while since they'd last spoken or he'd been up to the station. So, activating the comm in the living room, he reached out and soon they settled into friendly conversation. As usual she was pleased at how much he seemed to enjoy life on her home planet. 

"I've never felt quite so welcome anywhere before," he said. "So this is new. And I can even be _myself,_ if you know what I mean."

"I'm glad," she assured him. "I know it's not what you wanted, but it's better than the alternative. This war isn't any fun." 

Julian frowned. "I know. But out of uniform and barred from Federation space... I can't seem to do much. I feel useless. But Garak is doing plenty. From what he tells me, he's been buried in war work."

Kira looked thoughtful. "So what _has_ he been telling you?"

"That he's been put to work breaking codes on intercepted Cardassian and Dominion messages," Julian explained. "Still tailoring, of course, but at the rate things are going that's almost like a sideline." Something occurred to him. "I hope he's being compensated in some way."

He had glanced away from Kira while he was talking and had missed her expression. Now that he switched his eyes back to her, he saw her biting her lip. 

"What is it? Something you want to tell me?" he prodded. 

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Well?"

"Julian, I don't think I _can_. I mean, it's not really my place. It's more... _his_ business." She shrugged and literally wiped her hands against one another. 

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he pressed. "I talk to him almost every day and I've had no indication that anything is wrong. He said the work is hard but it's been going well."

Kira nodded. "That's true. But he did run into some problems. Which I really don't think I should discuss with you. It's more of a private thing."

The use of the word "private" raise a red flag. "Kira, is this by chance some medical issue or... to be more precise... some type of _psychological_ issue?"

The woman held her gaze steady but did not answer. This was all the answer Julian needed. 

"I'll see if I can arrange a visit by sometime tomorrow."

"You do that, doctor."

"I will. And don't spoil things by telling him I'm on my way."

* * *

Julian was making his way through the Promenade, on the way to Quark's, when the Constable approached him. He smiled warmly, seeing from the shapeshifter's bearing that he was coming over on personal rather than official business. 

"Hello, Odo," he said, once they were within earshot. "Decided to make a surprise visit. Everything all right here?"

Odo nodded curtly. "As 'all right' as life can be in the middle of a war," he replied drolly. "But it is fortunate you're here. We did have one minor disturbance and it originated with your partner."

"With Garak?" Julian clarified. What was it that no one was telling him? 

"Yes," the Changeling sighed heavily. "The stress of working against his own people is obviously getting to him. I don't know the details; it’s his private business. However, I do understand the dilemma. After all, I have to fight the Founders." 

Julian processed this. Something about Garak's war work, then. 

"Well, we haven't been able to talk much and I haven't visited in a couple of weeks, so it's good I'm here," he assured, covering up his unease. 

Looking as if he'd dispatched a duty, Odo inclined his head. "Yes. I won't delay you. I'm sure you're eager to be reunited."

* * *

Despite the Constable's suggestion, Julian did not rush to locate Garak. Instead he sauntered over to Quark's. A pint of ale, and make that _real_ ale, not synth, suddenly struck him as very appealing. 

While the eponymous proprietor wasn't at the bar when Julian took a stool, Morn was, and so he was confident he'd be served in short order. And so it was; after less than a minute Quark emerged from the back with a large covered dish, which he set down with a flourish. 

"For both your stomachs," he announced. 

Morn nodded and raised an empty glass, which the Ferengi promptly refilled. "You're welcome."

Pretending to notice the doctor for the first time, Quark did a double-take and scuttled over. "Doctor Bashir! How unexpected!"

Julian played it cool, secret agent style. "I try to be unpredictable. It keeps my enemies off balance."

Quark cocked his head. "Enemies I can understand, but what about Garak?"

"House ale, please, non-synth," he requested. "Garak doesn't know I'm here yet either. I'm surprising him."

"Good," said Quark, back turned as he selected a glass. "I think you're needed, doctor. That Cardassian needs a break."

 _Here it is again_ , thought Julian. "What do you mean?" 

Quark was now working the tap. "I'm just saying Garak needs a stress break. The rumor is—" he leaned forward and lowered his voice "—that for a little bit he was cracking under the pressure of all that top secret code work he was doing."

"What?" Julian kept his voice low. "What do mean ' _cracking_ under the pressure'?"

The Ferengi set down a full glass of ale. "Forget I said anything. That new Trill, Ezri, has counseling experience, and I know she was sent to work with him. And now Garak seems to be working again just fine, so I guess she did a good job."

Julian eyes were fixed on his drink. _Ezri Dax_. He'd met her only a couple times. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. Knowing that somewhere in that youthful, even green young Trill, Jadzia still lived, was both disconcerting and comforting. 

"Look up, doctor." Julian did and saw Quark giving him a soft look. "Like I said, forget it. Drink up, then go see Garak. He ought to be fine. And this one's on the house."

"Feeling generous?"

"It happens."

* * *

As he approached Garak's Clothiers, Julian could see the gate was down and the inside lights were lowered. _Gone for the day then_ , he surmised. 

He had just arrived out front and was about to turn on his heel toward the turbolift when he noticed a light in the back of the shop. And Garak's face lit up dramatically from below. 

Julian knocked on the gate and held his hand up in a frozen wave. As Garak looked up, the man briefly appeared annoyed, most likely assuming a customer had come to bother him after hours, but once he saw who it actually was, his expression switched to one of delighted surprise. 

"Julian!" he called, rising from his seat and half-jogging towards the entrance. "You didn't tell me you were—" Julian was grinning. "Ah. That was the idea." He stepped to the side and activated the mechanism that unlocked and opened the gate. "Well, come in then."

As soon as he could, Julian stepped into the shop, took the Cardassian in his arms and kiss him soundly on the lips. "Miss me?" he asked, pulling back.

"Always, _ss'avi_ ," Garak assured. He then stepped back and eyed Julian up and down. "You look well. Decent clothes, and from your eyes it looks like you might've been getting some sleep."

Julian glanced down at the shirt and pants he was wearing, both of which Garak had made. They did suit him nicely. "All things considered, the fact I've been able to get in some sleep has been impressive. I've really been burning the candle at both ends."

Garak furrowed his brow. "You've been _what_?"

Julian understood. "Oh. Idiom, quite outdated. _Burning the candle at both ends._ You know what a candle is?" Garak nodded. "It’s made of wax. When you burn the wick, the wax runs down. If you had a candle and somehow you lit and burned it at both ends, the candle would be getting shorter and shorter, twice as fast as usual. It would be ridiculous."

"Ah," murmured Garak, understanding. "So if someone is ‘burning the candle at both ends,’ they're doing a lot of things, too much, and probably are going to be using up their resources, like their energy, much more quickly than usual?"

"Yes." Eyeing Garak, he didn't see a man who looked very rested. "Speaking of which, been burning any candles recently?"

In answer Garak walked to the back of the shop, where Julian had seen him working earlier. "Well I'm burning one now. In fact, if you give me another ten minutes, I can be finished and we can go up to my quarters."

And so, while he would've like to press Garak with a few more questions, Julian gave in to his request and spent the next fifteen minutes – Garak pleaded for more time – at first examining various wares in the shop, then scrolling through a PADD he had in his pack. 

"All right," Garak announced. "I'm done. All sent off for the day."

"Good,” said Julian, rising from the chair he had found so he could relax and read. "People are telling me you need a break and I intend to give you one, by force if necessary."

The Cardassian's mild expression snapped to one of suspicion. "People? What _people_? And what have they been telling you?"

 _I need to be careful with this_ , Julian told himself. "Don't be upset, dear. But several friends of ours are worried about you and when they saw I was here they told me you needed a break of some kind. That's it, that's all I really know."

Garak's face shifted only marginally. His mouth was still set in a thin line. "These friends? They don't include a certain Trill counselor, do they?"

Julian shook his head. "No, they don't. Quark mentioned her, but again, no real details. And I don't consider her a friend anyways. An acquaintance maybe."

At this Garak relaxed a tad. "I don't like the idea of people gossiping about me."

Gently Julian took one of Garak's hands. "I guess you wouldn't, but it's really not ‘gossip.’ It's concern. And they were very discreet, coming directly to me." He tugged on his partner’s hand and eyed the exit. "Now, can we please go? I'll make you dinner and generally take care of you all night. What do you say?"

Garak headed toward the Promenade. "I say, 'Yes, please, darling.'"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Julian was at the table setting down a sample platter of half a dozen Cardassian dishes he knew his partner loved. There was also wine and a replicated candle, which he lit with the laser scalpel from his travel med kit. The candle was not burning at both ends. 

Before taking his own seat, Julian came up behind Garak's and swept his hands up and down the man's shoulders. Then he began to knead. "You're awfully tense," he murmured, squeezing. "Give me a few minutes and I can fix that."

Garak half-turned and stilled his hands. "My dear, it seems that during your time away you’ve forgotten exactly what the effects of a few minutes’ massage on a Cardassian's neck ridges might produce."

Julian stepped back and laughed out loud. "You know, I believe you're right. So let's forget that for now. First, let's eat."

And so they ate their dinner and spoke of inconsequential things, or matters pertaining to Julian's life down on the planet. Meanwhile Julian deliberately held off from  asking Garak exactly what trouble he'd been having. Instead he smiled and nodded and bantered in all the right places. Maybe Garak would bring it up himself. Or maybe not. Well, Julian would find the right moment to bring it up.

But before that moment came, Garak had put down is utensils and was gazing at Julian soberly. 

"You're not fooling me, you know," he said flatly. "I don't know if someone called you and told you to check on me or if you found out by accident, but you definitely came up to check on me, because you've heard something, and it's more than you let on."

Julian tried not to reveal anything in his face. He didn't speak.

"Just tell me it wasn't Ezri," he continued. "I don't think it could be, because from what I understand of Federation medical ethics, she couldn't go revealing anything to you but—"

"It wasn't Ezri," Julian interrupted softly. He took up his wine glass and finished it off. "And no, as a counselor she wouldn't have revealed that. Our friends – Kira, Odo, and Quark, by the way – didn't give me many details either."

"But some." Garak's hands were in his lap and he glanced down, studying them. 

"Yes." Julian pushed back from the table and rose. "Now come over here to the sofa, sit down, stop being a stubborn old ass, and just tell me whatever it is you haven't wanted to tell me. I promise to give you a back rub, a shoulder rub and any other kind of rub you'd like." He patted the seat next to him. "Just talk."

And that was how he finally got Garak to confess to the anxiety, irritability, and increasing claustrophobic attacks he’d become prey to. Crowds had become a nightmare. He'd become paranoid. The walls of the shop had seemed to be closing in on him. He’d had trouble sleeping, his mind a whirl of Cardassian and Dominion codes, which he frantically untangled, to no satisfaction whatsoever. 

But it wasn't until Ezri had stepped in as a counselor that he had any idea what the real problem was. Not that he’d hit on it right away. No, instead he resented the girl – woman –and her naïve notions of simple relaxation exercises. That holosuite fantasy – what a farce! And then after that, when he gone back to the shop to work on clothes, which somehow didn't bother him the way working on codes did, she come to see him and he'd humiliated her. Utterly. 

Julian could well imagine the scene and Garak's sharp words. He empathized with the young Trill and had a feeling he might be trying to apologize to her on his partner's behalf. He remembered how Garak had been during his withdrawal from the implant. 

Finally, the Cardassian explained how the counselor had outwitted him, coming back into the shop and provoking him – intentionally? – into revealing his misgivings about his role in the war. About how he was helping the Federation kill Cardassians. How he was working against the State, however corrupted it had become. He had become a traitor. The worst thing imaginable.  

"The strangest thing was," he said thoughtfully, "as soon as I'd said it, everything became clear. It had all been locked in my head, but then it was right in front of me."

Julian, who had his arm around Garak's back, gave his partner a squeeze. "You got better?"

Garak nodded. "Yes. Once I said it and accepted it and thought it through, I realized that it's what I have to do. And the walls weren't closing in on me anymore. I could do the work again."

Julian kissed the man on the cheek. "You thanked your counselor, I hope?"

"Yes, doctor," he groaned. "we're doing some follow-up work, too."

"Excellent." He kissed up and down Garak's nearest neck ridge. "And you promise next time you're in trouble like this, you'll tell me?"

Garak opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. Then opened it and kissed Julian on the mouth. "Probably not," he admitted. 

Despite this Julian began to give him the promised shoulder rub. "You exasperating man." He kneaded deeply on the muscles closest to Garak's neck. The man groaned. "You do know what I'm going to make you do now?"

"Nnnnooo," Garak managed, overwhelmed by the massage. "What?"

Julian moved his hands a little further down Garak’s shoulders. "I'm going to make you pound me into the mattress. It'll make you feel a lot better."

The ex-spy mock-glared. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"If you want it to be," Julian. 

Garak pushed back. "Consider me threatened. Let's go to bed." 


	9. Joining the Fight: When It Rains...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had lots of fun with this chapter, which is essentially an AU of ["When It Rains..."](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/When_It_Rains..._\(episode\)) with the critical difference being the addition of Julian to the Kira-Odo-Garak triad. I adore the entire Cardassian Resistance Front plotline, so getting to dig into them and play is kind of heady. Anyway, so here we have Julian leaving his sedentary doctor life on Bajor to take up with the resistance. As if that weren't enough of a challenge in itself, he's facing other challenges, like a sick Changeling and trying to keep his and Garak's relationship under wraps (for reasons). This is before they even land, which is when things get even trickier. So all in all, fun times! 
> 
> BTW, a couple of shout-outs: 1) to [DS9 Transcripts](http://www.chakoteya.net/DS9/571.htm) for providing me the tons of dialog I needed for this chapter, which includes conversation straight from the episode (with new bits added in), 2) to [prisdreamsofsweetness](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/prisdreamsofsweetness) for the continued encouragement in writing this, and 3) the wonderful people who've recently left me really awesome comments!

Julian stood outside Captain Sisko's office, attempting to rein in the case of nerves he'd been hit with as soon as he'd entered Ops. Garak would be joining him for the meeting but he hadn't yet arrived, and the doctor was not entering the office alone. Meanwhile, although he'd carefully placed himself out of view of the captain, members of the Ops team were observing him with little attempt at subtlety. This wasn't helping. 

Finally, Garak stepped off the turbolift. "Ah, early, I see, doctor. Admirable." He stepped up and discreetly straightened the collar of Julian's civilian shirt. "It'll be fine. Remember, let _me_ talk."

Julian nodded, but privately knew with that Sisko would force him to speak. Surely he'd have some questions that he'd expect _Julian_ , not Garak, to answer. 

The Cardassian turned and walked swiftly to Commander Kira. "Hopefully this won't take long," he said, again exuding confidence. 

Kira glanced up toward the captain's office. "I don't have a problem with it and neither does Odo. Why Sisko should care I don't know."

Julian guessed they probably had more to discuss, but at just that moment the office doors opened and the captain appeared. "Ah, Mr. Garak. I see you're here." Julian stepped out from around the corner. "And Mr. Bashir. Come in, you're right on time."

Garak gestured for Julian to enter first and he did so, taking a seat on the right as Sisko settled in his chair across the wide desk. This was a place he'd sat many times, delivering reports, meeting with the captain, but it now felt strange. He laid eyes on the baseball, looking for a bit of familiarity. 

"So, I assume you saw my request," Garak began, settling in to Julian's left. "The Commander and the Chief of Security approve. We only await your feedback before we ready our party for departure."

Sisko had hands flat on the shiny, black surface of the desk. "I saw your request. But I'm afraid granting it is has been complicated."

"How so?" Garak asked, seemingly guileless. 

Julian already knew what the captain would say. 

"I personally have no problem with your request," Sisko prefaced, "but when I submitted it up the chain of command, as part of the overall mission plan, there were objections." 

"Let me guess," Julian said, discarding Garak's instructions not to speak. "The Federation doesn't want me out in the galaxy at large."

Garak swiveled in his seat. "What do you mean? You anticipated a problem?"

Julian arched an eyebrow. "And you _didn't_?" He checked Sisko's face. "It's because I'm an Augment, Captain, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. They consider you a high security risk." 

"That's absurd." Garak's nostrils flared. "He's a civilian, headed off into non-Federation space, on what is only nominally a Federation mission. How do they even have say-so over this?"

Sisko had brought his hands together, so his chin rested on his fingertips, which met in a vee. "They _don't_ have say-so. _I do._ We had a long conversation about it, and finally they told me they'd allow me to use my 'discretion.'"

"And what have you decided, sir?" Julian asked formally. 

Sisko placed his hands back down on the desk. "I'm letting you go. But don't you disappoint me."

"I won't, sir," he promised. 

* * *

Julian hated to be bored, and though he doubted he'd find himself bored on this upcoming mission, it was best to be prepared. So after some discussion and persuasion, he'd convinced Vakat to lend him a travel med console for the purpose of a research project – and to assist him as needed. Vakat admired the other doctor's curiosity and work ethic. 

So when Odo entered the Infirmary, Julian had everything ready. The only thing left was to explain himself. 

"You wanted to speak to me?" the Constable inquired, giving Julian an assessing look. "I assume this has something to do with our mission to assist Damar and his Resistance?"

Julian hedged. "Yes and no. You see, it's for a research project. One I plan on doing while we're on our mission."

He explained his desire to explore possibilities of organ replacement. Naturally Odo was impatient and urged him to get to the point. 

"Well, here's the thing. I need to borrow a cup of goo. That is, of _you_. And not even a cup, actually a much smaller amount." 

The Constable crossed his arms defensively. "Excuse me?"

 _Which of us is more socially awkward, Julian?_ He tried again. "Please? I'll just be _borrowing_ it. In the meantime, I need to study your morphogenic matrix so I can get an idea of how to synthesize organic tissue that can change the way your cells do."

Odo's stance relaxed ever so slightly. "To use for organ replacement." 

"Exactly." 

"Can't you just scan me or something?” the Changeling huffed. 

"I'm afraid not."

"You Solids, especially Humans, have such busy minds," Odo grumbled. "It's not enough just to be part of a resistance movement trying to break the Dominion hold on Cardassia. You have to solve the problem of battlefield organ replacement."

"He may have a busy mind, but the idea is sound," pronounced a voice coming from the doorway behind them. Vakat was emerging from the breakroom. 

"Doctor," the Changeling acknowledged. "You know of this project?"

Vakat nodded in that measured Vulcan way of his. "I know and approve. In fact, I'm loaning Dr. Bashir the Federation equipment to conduct the work and have told him I will run remote analysis should he require anything beyond the capabilities or linkages of that equipment or your shuttle."

Odo grunted. "I see. Well, in that case, all right, Dr. Bashir."

And so Julian got his sample. A minute later the Changeling left, reminding him they were scheduled to leave at 16:00.

"Thank you, Vakat. I needed your support there."

The Vulcan inclined his head. "I realized that. But I've learned how to handle our Chief of Security. The direct approach, hard facts, are best."

* * *

Seated in the compartment at the back of the runabout, Julian sat frozen, staring at the screen of the medical console. He'd been at it for almost forty minutes, checking, rechecking, flipping through every possible readout, but the screens  all told the same story. He was sure. Now came the part he was dreading. 

Telling the patient. 

Pushing the console away from the edge of the work counter, the doctor steeled himself.  Despite everything they taught you in medical school, there was no "best way" to break news like this. 

He made his way to the front, where he found the other three in conversation. He stood just inside. When all three looked to him expectantly, he took his opening. "Sorry to interrupt, but I must speak with Odo."

"Doctor?" 

Julian stepped forward to approach and sit down, but almost instantly realized he wouldn't be doing that. No way would he be breaking the news in front of the others. He stopped. 

"It's a matter we need to discuss in private," he explained. He motioned toward the back. "If you could step away for a few minutes?"

Odo frowned, gave Kira a searching look, then stood and followed Julian to the rear compartment. 

The Constable joined him at the makeshift medical workstation. 

"So you know the project I'm working on," he began.

"Yes," Odo grated. Julian's heart clenched, thinking of what he was about to tell him. 

"Well, when I went back here two hours ago to get to work, I began by running a scan on the sample you loaned me." He gestured to the small tube in the counter. 

"A scan of _me_ ," the Changeling commented. "And is that it? You're ready to give it back?"

"Ah, no." He really needed to get to the point. "When I ran the scan, I noticed something unusual. So I ran more scans." He looked up briefly toward the ceiling, seeking strength, then met Odo's eyes. "The disease that's killing your people. You're infected." 

When Odo's sole reaction was to freeze like a stone, without even a shudder, Julian continued. "My guess is you became infected the last time you Linked with the Female Changeling."

Odo still took some time to speak, but now the doctor allowed him the moments he needed to respond. 

"I would ask if you're _sure_ about this, but I know you, doctor," he said finally. "And based on that, I know you _must_ be sure. You've checked the results many times over."

"The past forty minutes," Julian affirmed. "I ran through everything, over and over, hoping I was wrong."

The Changeling nodded, then pursed his lips. "But I don't have symptoms."  

"So far," Julian informed him regretfully. "However, from what I can tell, the virus is replicating quickly and it may not be long before symptoms start to surface." He watched as Odo's face and indeed entire body froze. "We need to get you back to the station."

Odo shuddered back to life. "Absolutely not. We have a mission to accomplish."

"Odo!" 

But the Changeling was already rising from his seat. "I believe the choice in such matters is up to the patient."

Julian wanted to object, but it was on instinct, not on the grounds on medical ethics. On that Odo was right.

"Very well," he agreed. "But I need to get in touch with Vakat immediately so he can begin work on this, with all the resources of the Federation. He has some of... _you_... too." 

" _Fortunately_ , it seems, so I don't object," Odo said drolly. 

"Right. And I'm going to have him ask Starfleet Medical to send him the results of the tests they ran on you a few years ago so he can compare to what we're looking at now. Then we can get going at figuring out how this virus works." Julian wished they could _both_ be back on the station tackling this, but he was very confident in Vakat's abilities. "However, I do need to contact him now, which means using the monitor up at the con." He stood and glanced down the short passage meaningfully. "What about the others?"

Odo hesitated only briefly. "You can tell them. They should be aware of all factors in our mission. And if they object, as I'm sure Kira will, I'll be firm." 

Julian didn't doubt that.

* * *

With less than a half an hour until they reached the Cardassian rebel base, Julian was busy checking his travel and med kit, but truly the busiest thing was his mind. There were several serious issues he had to get a handle on – and quickly. It wouldn't do to be distracted by them. Once they beamed down, he had to be steady on his feet, not compromised by worry. Methodically he set about sorting matters out. 

First there had been his second conversation with Vakat, concluded only an hour earlier. That had been unsettling. Starfleet was determined not to share its medical information on Odo. Sigma Nine Clearance indeed! Julian's knew straight off who had such clearance and when he suggested it, the Vulcan doctor agreed. Sisko wouldn't hesitate to wield his authority. As for Starfleet Medical's not-so-subtle insinuations that seeking a cure to the Founders' disease was disloyal to the Federation, Vakat was offended (in a Vulcan way) on several levels. Doctors and researchers certainly cannot condone the possible extinction of an entire species, could they? And so, with the backing of his companions, who were party to the entire conversation on the shuttle, they had agreed to obtain Sisko's assistance and, no matter what, to persist in the investigation and the research, as it was the moral thing to do. Vakat pledged his full devotion to the endeavor. 

Then there was the matter of Odo. Naturally he'd delivered the news of his diagnosis to Garak and Kira with a show of stoicism. He'd maintained that bearing throughout the journey through space, despite natural attempts at sympathy and comfort from Kira and even Garak. Julian himself had of course wanted to discuss matters and the doctor in him wanted to help, but he knew there wasn't a thing he could do, so he’d restrained himself. All he could do now was watch for signs of illness – which Odo planned to conceal from the Cardassians as long as possible, if and when they manifested. He’d also check in with Vakat at some point later on. Once they were down with the resistance, there'd likely be no reaching out to DS9. 

One final matter weighed heavily on him. Garak had insisted that for the benefit of the mission, at least on this initial stage, they conceal their relationship. Even though this was something they had discussed and agreed in before leaving the station, it was now, with only minutes before beam-down, that it was hitting him just what this ruse would mean. 

"This has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you," Garak had explained. "Or any shame about being with you."

"I understand that, Elim. I'm not dense," he huffed. "And I trust you above me to know exactly what's warranted in this situation. I'd just like you to explain it."

And so Garak had. Put simply, while Cardassians weren't homophobic, they were xenophobic, and if their soon-to-be compatriots knew Garak was in a relationship with a Human, it would undermine him in a big way. But might not they know already? Garak's probes indicated not, and so he intended to gamble on that and act as if they weren't together. And, if someone contradicted that, they could always say they'd broken up. 

"I could even claim I realized our people had a point in scorning other species as bedmates," he'd added lightly. "So don't be hurt if I say it."

Julian had groaned. "I'll just be prepared for a lot of lies. More than usual, anyway."

There were other elements to be considered.  Social and body language would be important. They'd both have to cut down on the bickering and arguments, as in Cardassian culture that was considered flirting. There would also have to be more personal space between them and under no circumstances should Julian touch Garak's shoulders in public. That would be a dead giveaway. 

"It may be that I judge all those we're working with to be trustworthy or, shall we say, not unusually cutthroat," Garak told him. "They might not be the type to try to exploit you as a weakness of mine or insult me through our association. And that case, we might be able to be open in future. But initially, we need to exercise every caution."

Julian understood the subterfuge (he'd _lived_ subterfuge), but wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Kira and Odo were in on the whole thing, they had to be, and they were going to be quite open, as news their relationship had spread. Garak and Julian's by contrast had not been picked up, in part because it was long distance, but more likely because Garak had made it so. 

Finally, they were prepared to leave the shuttle. Julian felt he'd sorted things out in his mind. He'd done what he could about pushing forward research on the virus. Odo would maintain stoicism and hide his vulnerability as long as possible, likely only going to Julian if he were falling apart – nothing to be done there. And he and Garak would be together, even if they couldn't appear to actually be _together_.  

* * *

In the moments before his first meeting with Damar and his resistance group, Julian had packed all his worries neatly away in his mind. But just for a second another distracting thought occurred to him: these tunnels reminded him an awful lot of the ones he and Garak had run through below Doctor Noah's lair on the slopes of Mt. Everest. But this was no holosuite problem and there was definitely no Honey Bare. He'd have to share the thought with Garak later. 

They reached the main cavern and were met by Damar and his second-in-command. Garak had informed him the man, named Rusot, had been present on DS9 during the Dominion takeover. Julian had never met Damar, but knew he had at one point threatened Ziyal, at which time Kira had taught him a lesson that had left bruises. And then of course later, he'd killed her for her disloyalty, in front of her father. He was curious to see what the man was like, and how he and Kira would manage together. 

"Welcome to the headquarters of the Cardassian Liberation Front," Damar said in greeting. "It's been a long time," he said, looking significantly at Kira.

"Yes, it has," the Bajoran replied. "Now allow me to introduce my team. Odo, you both know. Garak, you've already been in contact with and, so he tells me, know by reputation.  His specialty is computer security – breaking through it, specifically – plus code-breaking and other forms of espionage and intelligence."

"And this Human?" Rusot asked. From that one question. Julian sensed a xenophobe. "Garak supplied some details – that he was an ex-Starfleet doctor – but I'd like to hear more."

Garak took over. "Dr. Julian Bashir served for nearly five years aboard Deep Space 9 as the station's Chief Medical Officer. His record was exemplary. At one point he and I were both imprisoned at the same Dominion internment camp, which we escaped. For the past two years, Dr. Bashir has lived on Bajor, where he works at a major hospital. He still has strong ties to the station, however."

Rusot narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin. "And just why does an officer in good standing leave Starfleet and move to Bajor, I wonder."

"Because he's lost his commission and his medical license," Julian forced himself to explain. Garak had told him to be honest in these points. "And he's effectively been exiled from the Federation."

Damar raised an eyeridge. "Why would the Federation do that?"

"Because it was discovered that I'm genetically enhanced," he explained forthrightly. "What the Federation calls a Human Augment – technically not Human." 

"Really?" drawled Rusot, beginning to circle. Julian was taking a distinct dislike to the man. "You look Human enough to me. But not to the Federation?"

"Genetic resequencing is illegal in the Federation," said Julian, tiring of the topic. "And thus in Starfleet as well. I knew that when I applied to Starfleet but had concealed it out of a desire to serve."

"Hmm," Rusot huffed noncommittally. "Well, thank you for enlightening us, Dr. Bashir. Now, to business. Did you bring the supplies we requested?"

For the first time, Odo joined the conversation. "Food replicators, weapons. I think you'll find everything you asked for."

"Excellent," said Damar, managing to sound diplomatic. "The Cardassian people won't forget the Federation's generosity." 

"How nice," Garak said sweetly. "And now that the formalities are over with, let's try to remember that our enemy is the _Dominion_ , and not each other." 

"I don't need to be reminded of who my enemies are," Rusot sneered darkly. 

Between Kira, Damar, Rusot and Garak, it seemed diplomatic relations were holding, but only just.

* * *

 An hour and a half after the initial briefing, the Federation party was settling in to their assigned accommodation, a small cavern with cots. While Odo and Garak discussed details of the Adarak raid and Kira was reviewing a list of names on a PADD, Julian sat himself down on a mattress and stretched his shoulders. For a ninety-minute meeting, it had seemed much longer. 

He hadn't been a big participant in the proceedings, although he had asked a few questions which apparently weren't stupid, as he’d received no funny looks. Military raid planning really wasn't his forte. Instead he’d absorbed all the details and set about trying to learn quickly. 

Julian had also put effort into observing the players. Kira impressed him greatly. Yes, he had worked with her for five years and knew of her background and abilities. But he was sure her confidence and even her bluntness had increased in the two years since he'd been forced from Starfleet. Or perhaps it was just the fact she was working with Cardassians? Odo meanwhile seemed his usual self, gruff, speaking no more than necessary, but getting his point across and asking astute questions. Garak meanwhile did seem different. He wasn't playing it meek nor was he overly aggressive, but somehow he was projecting a mien of polite danger. Julian had the feeling Garak could easily slip a knife in Rusot's chest while thanking him for supplying an armaments inventory. 

As for Damar and Rusot, Julian had formed a few initial impressions, which he wanted to discuss with Garak. He knew there was body language among Cardassians that he wouldn't have picked up on, and also history that Garak might now catch him up on. 

He glanced up to find Garak standing before him. "May I sit?"

Julian patted the mattress. "Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just processing that briefing."

"I understand," said Garak, sitting down. "It's a lot to take in, for someone not used to that type of work. It's fortunate I've been warmed up to it by my work on the Defiant."

Julian nodded. "I'm sure. And I could follow everything, that's not the issue. What I was thinking about more was the dynamics of the group, the players."

"I would guess you don't mean those of our own party?" Garak asked. At Julian's raised eyebrow he continued. "Yes, Damar and Rusot are interesting to watch, aren't they? What's your assessment? Just a sketch."

Julian rubbed his chin. "Well, I'd say Damar is trying to be a diplomat, and make up for the damage he did collaborating with the Dominion. He's open to making changes, switching strategy, actually listening to Kira, and you."

"Go on," Garak urged.

"And Rusot is... well, let's just say I don't much trust him. He exudes animosity and is almost certainly a xenophobe. Right now he's probably cursing us all of out to Damar, telling him Cardassians shouldn't be relying on outsiders."

Garak smiled indulgently and, after a quick scan of the chamber and its entrance, leaned over to give Julian a peck on the temple. "Very good. I can't disagree with a word you've said. Your powers of observation, and recall, will prove useful I’m sure."

A minute or two later, one of the Cardassians appeared at the doorway and announced that it was time for dinner. 

"Well, time to mix and mingle again," Julian joked, standing and stretching again. 

"And observe."

* * *

 Julian had been torn over where to sit. Did he place himself with Kira and Odo, or would it be better if he deliberately showed a willingness to socialize with the Cardassians? If he chose the latter option, he'd have to be careful how he interacted with Garak, as they'd be directly under Damar and Rusot's eyes.

In the end he'd chosen the latter option, reasoning that he and Garak would have to begin their “act” sooner or later. Moreover, he really ought to get to know their new allies, if not through conversation – he expected Garak to handle most of that – then by observation. 

The meal had been going well, with no more indirect digs from Rusot at least, and Julian was sure he'd conducted himself correctly as far as concealing his relationship to Garak. But then there was a change in the tone of the table conversation. It began with a man who'd been introduced as Seskal. Julian wasn't focused on the words at first, until he was aware that Rusot had joined him. Then Garak, who'd clearly been following along, looked up, then stirred in his seat.

"Are you going to ask him or not?" questioned Seskal. 

Garak then rose from his chair, joining Rusot, Damar, and Seskal, who'd all left the table. "I wouldn’t recommend it."

"It's a legitimate question, Garak," Seskal insisted. 

"Maybe," he placated. "I just think it's a poor subject for discussion, not if we're all supposed to be getting along."

Now intensely curious what he'd missed – he'd been following a conversation down at the other end of the table – and also sensing a confrontation of some kind, Julian rose and joined the group, who had now approached Odo and Kira's table. 

"Well, if you won't ask him, I will," Seskal was saying. "Odo, when you were the Head of Security of Terok Nor, what did you think was going to happen to the Bajoran prisoners you arrested?"

Julian felt his heart momentarily leap into his throat, but kept his face neutral. Now _that_ was a loaded question! 

"You don't have to answer that," Kira advised. 

Now Rusot jumped into the fray. "Why not? It's a legitimate question."

"If you want to provoke an argument," Kira snapped. 

"Just as I said," Garak huffed. 

Diplomacy was still holding, Julian judged – but it might fail any moment. 

But it seemed Odo was willing to answer the question. "I expected that my prisoners would be dealt with justly, but I soon came to realize that Cardassians had little interest in justice." 

"Ah. Well then, why didn't you resign in protest?" Seskal sneered. 

Diplomacy broke, along with the plate Kira threw across the room. 

"What are you getting at?" Kira's eyes were blazing. 

"Nerys, don't," Julian heard Odo plead softly. 

Rusot now went in for the attack. "I believe you struck a nerve. Apparently, Commander Kira doesn't like to be reminded that her lover collaborated with her enemies."

"Odo wasn't a collaborator," she shot back.

Rusot looked smug. "I suppose that depends on your definition of collaborator."

Julian wasn't surprised when Kira moved to take on her much larger opponent. He was bracing himself to leap in and stop any fight when it was over before it began. 

"Nerys, it isn't worth it," Odo admonished. _Breaking the peace with violence_ , he means, Julian thought. 

Garak stepped in closer. "Odo's right, Commander."

"I guess we have a difference of opinion," Kira gritted out, before fairly storming out of the room in the direction of their cavern, Odo following in her wake. 

Garak turned to Rusot. "You don't know how lucky you are."

"Oh?" he returned, all arrogance. "Why's that?"

"She would've killed you," Garak stated plainly. 

 _And back at her Resistance days she would have,_ thought Julian. 

Rusot was unimpressed. "I only wish she had tried."

* * *

 Garak, using well-honed wit and charm, while carefully avoiding taking sides, managed to smoothly exit the conversation a few minutes later. He and Julian headed to their cavern. 

Julian was bursting with questions.

"In a moment," Garak murmured, apparently sensing exactly what was on Julian’s mind. He nodded in answer, pretending to examine one of the rock walls.

"You know," he said conversationally, "these caverns and tunnels remind me of the ones under Doctor Noah's lair. In the holosuite."

Garak chuckled. "Do you mean where you seduced Lieutenant Dax, or more accurately her facsimile, into releasing us, then shot me in the neck?"

"The very one."

Garak had his eyes on the cavern entrance as he replied. "I see your point. But I will say, the Kira in that program was quite different than the one here on Vanden Prime"

Just as they entered the living space, Kira called out. "I heard my name. What were you saying?"

Julian shook his head and smiled. "You don't want to know. You _really_ don't want to know." 


	10. Loyalties: Tacking Into the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to thank all the many people who've recently left comments on this story. I don't know if some people are just catching up or just deciding to leave comments, but it's much appreciated. Also the kudos!
> 
> As far as this chapter goes, it follows _very_ closely to [the episode it's based on](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Tacking_Into_the_Wind_\(episode\)), with a _lot_ of verbatim dialog, except with Garak's POV wrapped around it and some of his thoughts in general exposition. There are also a few new scenes with Julian, plus I extended the last scene from the episode. It's not too long a chapter, but it covers what to me is a critical period and the necessary follow-up to Ch. 9, which covers "When It Rains..." 
> 
> For me the most enjoyable part of writing this was reiterating just how much I dislike Rusot. He SOOOOOOO had it coming!

So far this resistance business was proceeding well, or at least a fair deal better than it had been. Retraining Cardassian military forces and their leaders into an entirely new way of war in short order was bound to come with its challenges. 

This example with the Jem'Hadar ship was a typical example. Kira was correct: even though ultimately the goal was accomplished, the saboteurs had not followed their instructions. Such sloppiness could lead to their discovery. Their discovery could lead to the discovery of more members of the resistance and the execution of all of them. And this would lead to the reduction of their forces. One small error, which Rusot dismissed, could lead to much larger problems. And the fact that Rusot still did not understand the concept of insulated cells and leaving off individual names meant that they had work to do. 

Just after a bristling Rusot left the main cavern, obviously incensed at having been taken down by a Bajoran, Odo arrived with news of the Tavak shipyard raid. He looked weary in a way Garak couldn't recall seeing before. 

When Kira encouraged the Changeling to take some rest in the bunkroom, Garak decided it might be wise to go speak with him about some resistance matters before he took a nap. Although, come to think of it, Changelings didn't nap, did they? Odo poured himself into a bucket. But he only did that once a day. In any case, after a minute or two, Garak entered the cavern. 

When his eyes found Odo lying in his bunk in the corner, he at first didn't know what he was seeing. But then it hit him: the disease. 

Odo's head jerked up as Garak approached.  "It's just like you to come sneaking in here without warning."

"My approach may have been quiet, but I assure you," he offered, "I had no intention of sneaking up on you. My apologies."

He studied Odo for a moment. The Changeling looked as ravaged as he had the time they'd been forced to return him to his home world. But this time his body appeared dry and flaking, rather than gelatinous. 

He ventured a question. "If... I may ask?"

"Why have I deteriorated so rapidly?" the shapeshifter grated. "I've been assuming dozens of different forms over the past few weeks. Changing shape seems to accelerate the progress of the disease."

Indeed, the man's abilities had been instrumental in the success of numerous operations, including the raid that very day. But if this was the result...

"Perhaps you should stop," Garak suggested.

"And do what?" Odo snapped bitterly. "Lie here waiting to die? I came to _work_ and _work_ is what I'm going to do."

Of course. Garak considered how this might affect the group. 

"I take it Commander Kira is unaware of your true condition?" he questioned carefully.

"That's _right_. And I prefer that it stays that way."

"I won't breathe a word," he promised.

Odo appeared marginally relieved. "See that you don't. She has enough on her mind without worrying about me." He struggled to continue his explanation. "And I don't want her..."

" _Pity_?" Garak supplied. 

The Changeling looked annoyed and about to say something, but he decided to cut himself off. "And what of Dr. Bashir?"

Odo grunted. "He doesn't know either. What would be the point? It's not as if he can do anything -- other than attempt to order me to stop work. Which I won't."

"I see your point," Garak conceded. 

Odo once again sank back into weariness. "Is there a reason you came in here, by the way?"

"Oh, yes," Garak admitted, having almost forgotten the matter himself. "We have need of a contact on Kelvas Five. I remember you telling me that you knew several--"

"I may have a few names for you," the shapeshifter sighed. "I'll have to give it some thought."

Garak made to leave, then hesitated. Perhaps he should say something. "Odo, I hope you know how much I--"

"If I don't want pity from the woman I love, why would I want it from _you_?"

The man had a point. 

* * *

He left the room to seek out Julian, who was actually working on some statistical modeling related to the state of the resistance. 

Garak judged that Odo was right about keeping his condition from the doctor. It would serve no purpose. And Julian already felt guilty that he couldn't do more to help his friend. 

Just the day before, a message had made it in from DS9. While Vakat assured them that he was still working on the problem, the missive was maddeningly short on details.

"Why can't he tell me?" Julian had frothed. 

"We're at war with the Dominion, dear," Garak had chided. "You'll notice he didn't even refer to _what_ work he was doing. It was completely non-specific. He can't go beyond that. Security."

Julian had conceded the point. "I know, I know. It's just so frustrating. And that one detail, about how he's working with _Quark_?"

"Ah, now I did wonder about that," Garak had said. "But after consideration, I've concluded it simply means Vakat had need of some supplies or perhaps some conniving that only Quark could provide."

"You're probably right," Julian had agreed, although Garak knew the man would continue to worry. 

Yes, it was a good idea to keep the knowledge of Odo's illness from the doctor as long as possible.

* * *

As it turned out, Kira already knew about the turn Odo's illness had taken. 

Garak discovered this when he'd gone to caution her about using him on the mission to commandeer a Dominion ship. He found himself respecting the woman even more after the explanation she'd given about why she'd put up with his pretense. She loved him deeply and wanted him to be able to protect his dignity and put up a front, as was his choice, as long as possible. 

His level of respect jumped even higher when, watching from the shadows, he watched her hold her own against Rusot, whose resentment and anger had finally gotten the better of him. 

"Don't you ever touch me again," Kira commanded, arm around Rusot's neck. It had been impressive to see how quickly she had forced the man face down on the table. 

As usual, Rusot did not know when to leave good enough alone. "I guess I hit a nerve," he sneered. 

"No, _this_ \--" she corrected, jerking his head back, "is hitting a nerve. Stop pushing me or I'll make you realize just how many nerves you have in that miserable body." 

 _Oh, she's good_ , Garak thought. Kira released Rusot and stepped back. 

"When this is all over and the Dominion is defeated--" the Cardassian began.

"You won't have any trouble finding me," Kira interrupted fiercely. 

A moment after Rusot stomped off, Garak spoke up from the shadows. "Oh, you'll have to do something about him long before that, Commander."

Kira gave him a wry look. "Thanks for all your help."

"You seemed to have things well under control," he assured her. 

"Did I?"

Ignoring the question, Garak decided to offer some free advice. "Despite his statement to the contrary, Rusot will not wait until the end of the war to make his move. I suggest you don't wait either. Kill him before he kills you."

Kira was ruthless and pragmatic, he knew that, but how deep did those qualities run? 

* * *

As they headed on a course toward the Dominion space station, Garak took the opportunity to catch up with Julian. They were seated at the con and Rusot was in back, so they could be more relaxed around one another. 

"I know you understand every bit of our plan," Garak was saying, "but there are a couple of things I want you to be clear on. So they're not surprises."

Julian's expression said to go on. 

"One, I want you to be prepared for the possibility that things might go horribly wrong," he began. "It's always a risk. We might miscalculate. A factor might be present which we didn't anticipate. It's a risk of every mission."

Unexpectedly, Julian reached out and clasped Garak's hand. "Of course I'm prepared for that. I've been doing probability analysis and have certainly run them for this specific scenario." The man squeezed his hand. "I understand risk and the real possibility of failure. It's a requirement for doctors. Now what was your next caution? I know Jem'Hadar are going to be killed."

"Yes," Garak affirmed. "But I wanted to tell you to be prepared to see me doing some killing." 

Julian gave him an unreadable look. "Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less. I might have to take down a few myself. It's a war." He still held Garak's hand and so he shook it. "Why did you feel you had to bring this up? You don't have to protect me."

Garak considered. Why _had_ he brought it up? It was a wonder Julian wasn't more insulted. "I think perhaps it's because we've never been at war together. I mean, actually _together_ , fighting side by side."

"Hmm. I suppose that's true enough." Julian released his partner's hand and rose from his seat. "Come on, let's go back. I could do with some tea." 

"I can't argue with that," Garak said, following along. "I remember from the last time that those Dominion ships certainly aren't set up to dispense tea." 

* * *

Later, after Garak had mowed down four Jem'Hadar and a Vorta to seize control of the Dominion ship's bridge, he was glad he'd had that discussion with Julian. While the doctor did not burst out in outrage the way Odo did, his eyes did linger on the still bodies, and for a minute afterward, he seemed to busy himself at the controls rather than meet his partner's eyes. 

But that was really the least of their worries. First there was the matter of being forced to delay departure when they discovered the installation of the Breen weapon was not yet complete. Then Kira had to handle an incoming message from the station inquiring about the navigational array and the lack of visual. Kira's improvisation was brilliant, Garak judged. 

But then there was the third problem: Rusot. His panicking would be the end of them. "We can't wait," "Damar, this is insane" and now...

"What if they didn't believe you?" he fretted. 

"Then we're dead," Kira replied, deadpan. 

Somehow Garak doubted Rusot would cool down at those words. 

* * *

It was in the final minutes, as Garak monitored the repair work by the Breen, that matters came to a head. 

"How much longer?" Kira inquired. She had been good about not asking him for updates too frequently.

He studied his readouts. "I'm not certain. It appears they're having problems connecting the secondary relays."

Suddenly, Odo was staggering away toward a bulkhead. Oh no. The illness? _Now?_

"Odo, are you all right?" Kira called out.

Naturally, Odo still tried to play it off. "Yes. Don't worry, I'm--"

Garak watched as the Changeling collapsed to the floor. Kira scampered to his side. His eyes went back to monitor the progress of the weapon installation. Those two needed their privacy. 

"It's over," Rusot declared bitterly.

Typically, even distraught, Kira was fierce. "Shut up, Rusot."

But Rusot was unraveling. "The shapeshifter is useless. The whole plan is coming apart. We have to get out of here now!"

"Go back to your post," Kira shot back.

Garak stepped away from the workstation, sensing violence was imminent. 

Rusot was defiant. "No. No more. We're leaving now!" He pointed his phaser rifle at Kira. And now Garak noticed that Julian was down beside her, crouched next to Odo. 

Garak pointed his weapon at Rusot's head. "That would be unwise."

The man was incredulous. "You're still a Cardassian, Garak. You're not going to kill one of your own people for a Bajoran woman."

"How little you understand me," he said. Briefly he made eye contact with Julian, who nodded very slightly, as if an encouragement.

Damar approached. "Put your weapons down, both of you!" 

"You want her dead too, Damar," Rusot argued. "I know you do. But you're the leader of the rebellion and don't want to kill someone wearing a Starfleet uniform. Let me do it for you." The man was eager to pull the trigger.

One of the consoles beeped and Damar checked it. "They've finished installing the dampening weapon."

"Then let's all get the hell out of here," Kira spit out.

But Rusot had decided. "Not you," he growled.

"I'm still here, Rusot," Garak reminded him.

Caught between him and Damar, Rusot made a desperate plea. "Damar, shoot him -- and the doctor and the Bajoran too. We can kill them all and keep the Breen weapon for ourselves. I believe in you, Damar. I know you're the right man to restore the Empire we loyally served. The Empire we loved. Together we can lead our people to greatness again. Just aim and fire."

Garak watched Damar's face. He kept his weapon trained on Rusot. 

In the few seconds he'd had time to consider it, Garak had judged the odds were in his favor. Still, when Damar fired and Rusot's body hit the ground, it felt like a shock.

"He was my friend," Damar declared. "But his Cardassia's dead, and it won't be coming back."

Kira's response was unsentimental. "Flood all compartments with the gas. Clear all moorings. Bow thrusters ahead full."

As the ship left dock and then went to warp, Julian approached Garak where he stood at his controls. 

"We've cleared their defense perimeter," Garak told Kira.

After leaving the helm to Damar, she went back to Odo. Meanwhile Julian now stood at his side. 

"It's unfortunate Odo's condition seems to have progressed so rapidly," Garak remarked. "Though I have something to confess. I've known about this for some time. He asked me not to tell you."

Julian leaned against the console. "You seem a bit anguished over this. I assure you, you shouldn't be. I knew all along."

"Just like Kira did!" he marveled. "How?"

"I'm a doctor," Julian huffed. "And I've known Odo for years now. You really think I wouldn't notice?" 

Garak didn't speak. Instead he gave the man a tender look. How he wished he could take Julian in his arms. 

He glanced over to Damar, the man in the room forcing them into secrecy about their relationship. He was looking down at the helm control, until he seemed to sense Garak's eyes upon him and looked up.

"Speaking of already knowing..." the man chuckled. 

Garak froze. "Already knowing what?"

Now Damar smirked. "About you and Bashir.  And I _don't_ mind. But I had to keep my mouth shut. Because of _him_." He cocked his head toward the floor, where Rusot's body still lay.

"You're full of surprises," Julian acknowledged. "How'd you find out?"

"Oh, I won't get into it, but it was back when I was stationed on Terok Nor," he replied. "Your friends didn't bandy the information about, but I stumbled upon it."

"And you didn't say anything to Rusot or anyone else?" Garak asked. 

"No. We need to be united, not divided. And you see what problems we had without that."

Garak nodded. "I agree. I didn't want any piece of leverage out there to be used against me. And then there's xenophobia."

"Obviously. And my friend was filled with it -- perhaps beyond the average Cardassian."

Julian slipped an arm around Garak's back. "Well, thank you for protecting us."

Damar gave a curt nod. "I'm afraid it will have to remain a secret among the overall resistance."

"I understand." Garak turned and took Julian fully into his arms. "So let's enjoy our time together before we rejoin the group."

"Or at least until we reach DS9," Julian murmured, head cradled in the crook of Garak's neck. "After that I'll have to help Vakat cure Odo."

"Of course, dear." He petted the top of Julian's head. 

"I have the con," Damar said quietly. "Just go find a place. At least two of us should be happy." 


	11. Interlude II - Extreme Measures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I didn't quite plan in my outline. 
> 
> I did know I was going to have to cover "Extreme Measures" in some way, because otherwise Odo wouldn't get cured, and that how Odo ends the war, so it had to happen. Which is why earlier in this story I had to 1) establish a relationship between Julian and Vakat, the doctor who replaces him as CMO and 2) have Julian meet Section 31. If I hadn't done that, Odo would've been sick but then I would've had to come up with a whole new way of curing him. 
> 
> But though I had decided all that, I was just going to sort of wedge it in front of the next chapter/episode, "The Dogs of War." However, I realized it really needed more space, its own chapter, and I also just wanted a break from the rebellion, if only for one chapter. So I went into it, although I decided not to actually describe all of it directly, but have Julian sort of recapping it. And then, since they're on Bajor and have some privacy, taking the the time for a scene that just doesn't work in the context of action scenes with the Cardassian Resistance Front.

Julian was feeling disoriented. It seemed like one moment he'd been working in an underground rebel stronghold, the next he was on a commandeered Dominion spacecraft, and then he’d been inside Sloan's mind capturing the key to the Founders' disease. And now? Now he was standing at the entrance to his house on Bajor tapping in the security code to let his friends in so they could all relax for a day before heading to Cardassia to overthrow the state. 

"Hi, Dr. Khayyat!” a young voice called. Julian nearly startled; it had been weeks since he'd last heard the sound of a child. 

Entering the last bit of the code, he pushed open the door and waved Garak, Kira and Damar inside. "Make some tea," he murmured to Garak in passing.

He turned to the child. "Good afternoon, Alka. Sorry, I was just letting my friends in. We're visiting until tomorrow."

The little girl approached, looking from the door to the doctor and back. "I thought you were off fighting in the war."

"I am, and so are my friends, but we have a little time before our next assignment, so I thought we could come down to Bajor." Alka was now at the bottom of the stairs. "I've been working in caves and warships."

The girl was looking through the open door. "With Cardassians?"

Julian nodded. "Yes. Garak is one of them. Then there's Damar, the leader of the Cardassian resistance."

"Was he the one wearing the robe and hood?" 

Alka was an intelligent girl. "Yes. He didn't want any fuss over visiting. People know Garak because of me. You understand."

"Uh huh. OK, well, I'm glad you get a little break," she said brightly. "Tell Mister Garak I said hello."

"I'll be sure to do that," Julian promised. 

After a parting wave, he turned back to the door and headed inside. When no one was in the living room at the front, he headed for the kitchen in back. There he found Kira and Damar in the breakfast nook while Garak was finishing putting together a tray of various teas. 

"Ah, so how is Miss Alka?” he asked, handing Julian his mug of Tarkalean tea. 

"She sends her regards." He watched Garak hand off drinks to the others. "I explained to her that we're only here briefly for a rest. And who you are, Damar."

Already sipping his hot tea, the man wrinkled his brow. After a moment he asked, "Is she afraid of Cardassians, I wonder?"

"She's only ever met Garak," Kira answered. "And heard stories. Too young to have experienced the Occupation. Which I'd say is a good thing. As long as she learns our history."

For a few moments all were silent, sipping their tea and perhaps thinking back on the notion of their shared history. 

But then Damar spoke up. "So, Bashir, are you going to tell us what happened up there, with Odo?" He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Kira held the same posture. 

Julian glanced at Garak. "Oh, don't look at me, Doctor. I was there, but it was you and Vakat who actually did it. And though I have some understanding of what was involved, I think it's best if you explain."

Julian sighed. He really would've rather put off an explanation until later – perhaps after dinner? – but he supposed it was natural for them to want to know. Odo had been seemingly deathly ill and was now on the road to recovery. A cure had been devised. How was it done? The answer was complicated. 

"I'll explain everything, but only if we can move into the living room and I can have some brandy."

The others readily agreed to this, although they kept up with small talk and finished their tea first. Julian brought up the idea of baking them fresh muffins in the morning. Damar had no idea what muffins were, but after Garak explained it to him, he sounded quite amenable to the prospect. 

"I've always had a hearty appetite," he remarked. "You wouldn't know it, but that's because I've lived so long on military rations and Dominion food. That was like ashes. Now my wife, she–" He cut himself off and set down his mug, muttering something untranslatable. 

There wasn't anything Julian could think of to say to this, nor could the others, so instead he turned to the kitchen and put together a tray with springwine, brandy and some glasses. 

"Ready to hear about the virus business?" he asked, holding up the tray and heading toward the front of the house. The others soon followed and made themselves comfortable. Garak took it upon himself to pour drinks once the tray had been set on the coffee table. 

Julian sat down with a glass of brandy and first explained what Vakat had discovered while trying to negotiate with Starfleet Medical for Odo's old files. They were withholding the truth and the truth was that they had created this virus and didn't want it cured. When the question came up of how Starfleet could engage in something like this, Julian then had to explain about Section 31. Further, he had to fill them all in on how Vakat had learned about the secret agency while treating Julian after his kidnapping. The captain had authorized Julian to speak about it. This knowledge had allowed the Vulcan to reason out the agency's involvement in the creation of the genocidal virus. 

"But what about Quark?" Kira asked. "I know he was involved somehow." 

Julian held out his glass, which Garak helpfully refilled. "He was, because Vakat needed someone to acquire certain equipment and someone to plot and scheme – to do things that are not exactly on the up and up."

"Like what?" Kira asked. "I know someone's dead, but I don't understand how."

"Quark was able to get his hands on a Romulan memory scanner," Garak supplied. "It's a device that allows one to essentially walk into another's mind, unwilling, and take certain memories or information one wants." 

Kira gave Garak a hard look, while Damar merely grunted. "I'm sure the Obsidian Order had similar devices or would've wanted them. Isn't that right?"

Garak shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. There are far more elegant techniques."

"Look," Kira interjected impatiently, "before you to go onto compare mind probes and torture techniques, could you get back to the point, Julian?"

And so he did, explaining the chance the doctor had taken partnering with the Ferengi, and then how Sisko have gotten wind of the plan and surprisingly given it his grudging approval, when it seemed to be Odo's only hope. 

"The risk paid off," he said, spreading his fingers flat on his lap. "The man from Section 31 who kidnapped me, Sloan himself, showed up."

"And then you kidnapped him?" Kira asked.

"Well, we captured him and put the memory scanner on him to get out the information on the virus and its cure, because we knew we wouldn't just _tell_ us." His mind flashed to the image of Sloan strapped down to a table in the infirmary, immobilized. "Then Vakat and I 'went in'."

Again it was Kira who posed a question. "What did that feel like?" 

How to describe it? "I'd say it was like a combination of a holodeck and a dream, but not _your_ dream, someone else's. We also discovered that Sloan was controlling it. And he was trying to trick us, mislead us, kill us." 

Julian remembered his drink and took a satisfying draw. "But fortunately Vakat's logic saw through this and we were able to make a second assault, which was also quite difficult and full of tricks, but this time we managed to get the information."

"Sloan died," Damar stared.

Julian nodded. "Yes. He willed himself to die, so we wouldn't be able to get the information. We almost died with him, trapped inside his mind, and tempted by tricks he laid out, but again, Vakat's clear-sightedness save the day. We made it out just before Sloan died."

Garak, who hadn't interjected during the tale, finished a glass of brandy he was working on and set it down on the table. "Fascinating. I would never have pictured two Federation doctors being so ruthless."

"First of all, I'm _not_ Federation, Elim," Julian corrected, "and second of all, of _course_ were ruthless, we're doctors. We had a patient to save, and not only a _patient_ , but an entire _species_. Which, yes, we are at war with, but as doctors we have an obligation."

"Still, you killed a man who stood in your way," Garak rebutted.

"I suspect you're just saying this for the sake of argument, but yes, we did. It was that or immense suffering and injustice." He pressed his lips together. "I will admit, it didn't hurt that I also hated the man's guts for what he had done to me."

"Revenge?" Kira asked.

"A bit of that, that's what I'm saying. But mostly we just did what we had to do, and made a decision based on the greatest good. It's a judgment call, but at least we know that Odo has been cured." 

"I can't possibly tell you how grateful I am for that," Kira told him. "So however you reached the decision, I admit it's fine with me."

-:-

Later, much later, after a lot more talking, dinner, an evening walk around the neighborhood, settling Kira and Damar into a guest bed and a sofa, Julian and Garak finally were alone in the bedroom.

"I'm glad we came down here," Garak remarked, stripping off his top. 

Julian, sitting on the bed and already down to his shorts, had to agree. "After everything we've been through, and what we're about to do..." He let out and exaggerated sigh and flopped back on the mattress. 

Garak stood above him as he removed his trousers. "There is that factor, of course, stress relief, but I was actually thinking of something else."

"What's that?" Julian asked, knowing the answer from his partner’s dancing eyes, but playing the game anyway. 

Garak knelt on the bed, straddling Julian's middle. "I was thinking of how long it's been since we were able to be alone and how long it might be after tonight until we have the opportunity again." 

Julian reached up and grasped Garak's mid-back, then pulled him down for a kiss. "It's an excellent thought. One I overlooked in all my mind-probing and virus-disabling."

Garak's tongue moved down Julian's throat and then to his clavicle. It had indeed been weeks since they’d been able to enjoy intimacy. He suddenly ached with longing, and desire roared through him. He grabbed Garak, rolled him over, and tackled him. 

This wasn't to be a game of winners and losers, however. They each took control, each dominated, each lived as the blissful recipient of pleasure. If they had somehow been keeping score amidst all their kissing, stroking, and biting, the game would probably have come up as a tie. 

That is, until Garak decided on his end game. After expertly fellating Julian nearly to the brink, the Cardassian declared that his everted _prUt_ had an urgent mission. Julian breathlessly chided him over such clichéd language, but happily let Garak spoon up behind him. 

The differences between their species being what they were, it had taken them some experimenting to find the best positions, and the one Garak chose now was a favorite. Julian was positioned on his side, legs curled up at ninety degrees, and Garak was slid down so his _ajan_ connected with Julian's ass. The doctor humped his partner’s leg, which went between his, and pressed backwards impatiently. 

Garak reached around and pinched Julian's nipples, ran his fingernails down his stomach to his pubic hair, then reached up and rubbed the head of his cock between finger and thumb. 

"Garak," Julian groaned, thrusting backward more insistently. He was rewarded when he felt his partner's other hand reach down and squeezed a cheek. "A bit harder?" The hand obliged, with two fierce squeezes, a pause and then a slap. 

Julian was ready for the preliminaries to end. He bucked back into Garak's crotch. " _Please_." 

The hand around his cock disappeared and from Garak's slight contortions, Julian knew he was getting a handful of lube. 

And ah, there it was, for an instant cool, but then very warm, and soon followed by Garak's _prUt_. As usual, it didn't seem to take his partner much effort to manage initial entry, but proceeding further required coordination from them both, at least for pleasure. Julian willed himself to relax his muscles and shifted his hips from side to side, while Garak worked his way in like a burrowing snake. 

The last bit was the hardest, given the wide base of the Cardassian phallus, but the effort was absolutely worth it. "I'm ready," Julian whispered. And with the snap of his hips and a grunt, Garak made the final push that made Julian's vision strobe red-white-red. 

He cried out, houseguests be damned, and reached for his cock, only for Garak to grasp his forearms and tell him "Oh no, I have you." Then he began to flex, over and over, pressing into Julian's prostate in a way that made it impossible for him to think or argue. His body merely pulsed in waves of pleasure, his cock hard against his belly, arms held tight by Garak as he struggled to get at it. 

Then finally, as the speed of Garak's pounding increased, along with the ragged breath of both of them, Julian felt a lubed-up hand descend on his cock. It was too much and for split-second he tensed inward, then shot outward, jerking violently. Garak, who hadn't stopped his thrusting, now shook in place, clearly also having reached his climax. He panted against Julian's back as he languidly stroked his partner's now soft penis. 

"You must admit, I do have excellent ideas," he teased. 

Julian chuckled. "I'm willing to admit that." He yawned. "You know, even the time you woke me up in the middle of the night asking me to get us a runabout for Bajor wasn't a bad idea. We did turn up good information." He craned his neck to see Garak. "But why you couldn't wait ‘til morning I don't know."

His partner moved away and turned Julian onto his back. "I'm not sure either – my motivations were clouded back then by the cranial implant – but I have no regrets over seeing you in your pajamas."

Julian smiled. "Speaking of which. No pajamas tonight, but how about we clean up and go to bed?"

"Yes, how about that," Garak agreed. "And in the morning you'll make muffins?"

The doctor nodded. "Oh, yes. Muffins for all of us."


	12. Hard Landing: The Dogs of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to this chapter ever since I first outlined this story, because I just love this section of the show, and the idea of doing an AU of it and _expanding_ on it was so appealing to me. Adding new scenes was so fun. And a couple of the scenes... well, I wasn't even planning them way back, but as I was working on this over the last few days, they just popped into my head, and then I just knew they _had_ to happen. Let's just say I decided Mila needed more "screen time." 
> 
> Anyway, thanks everyone for all your support along the way. Only two more chapters to go, and as you can imagine, they'll be doozies! Comments and kudos and shares appreciated.

Even amid the anticipation and stress of what was about the happen, Garak couldn't help but admire Julian's lithe form as he suited up in Cardassian civilian wear. They'd come to the conclusion he simply couldn't continue on without some minimal attempt at blending in, and so this was the first time he was wearing a top with a low-cut Cardassians collar. Not that the neckline was _meant_ to be low-cut, but without neck and shoulder ridges, it simply fell much lower. 

"I wonder if a military breastplate wouldn't have been a better choice," Garak remarked, sidling up to his partner and tracing a finger along his clavicle. "It would be far less distracting."

"I'd venture to guess you're among the few who'll be distracted, Elim," Julian countered, regarding himself in the cabin's small mirror. "The idea is that I won't be noticed. And any Cardassians who _do_ notice me are surely not going to be as affected as you are by my collarbone. Cardassians aren't xenophiles generally."

Garak withdrew his hand. "No, you're quite right. And I'm glad you understand the need for vigilance." He regarded Julian steadily. "I intend for our group to remain together, and I will do everything in my power to protect you, but—"

"Elim, I know. _Nothing_ is certain. And I'm _not_ a damsel. I'll be looking out for you, too. Count on it."

* * *

A half an hour later, they were standing on the bridge staring at the view screen, which showed a full view of their destination. Garak couldn't believe he was really coming back. 

" _Cardassia_ ," he breathed. "It's as beautiful as I remembered." The last time he'd seen it, albeit briefly, was when he'd returned to help rescue Kira from Entek.

"It won't be beautiful to my eyes until the Dominion is gone," Damar growled. 

Beside them Seskal provided an update. "Orbital traffic control is asking for our security clearance."

"I'll handle it," Garak offered smoothly, stepping to the console. Julian followed behind discreetly. The doctor was finally seeing what Garak could do beyond hemming trousers.

"We're taking a big risk coming here," Kira said to Damar. "I hope it's worth it."

"Gul Revok and Legate Goris are ready to bring their troops over to our side," he assured her firmly. "That's over a half a million men. If we can convince Gul Seltan to join us as well, we'll have another hundred thousand. I think that’s worth the risk."

"And you're sure you want me around?" she asked. And more quietly, but still loud enough that Garak could hear, "And Julian?"

As was often the case, Damar's face gave away little. "Before they join us, they'll want assurances that the Federation will support them. So we need you." He glanced over to Julian and Garak. "And as for the doctor, I think he's made it clear he's not a liability, and Garak won't leave him behind, so there's no decision to be made."

Damn right Garak wouldn't be leaving Julian behind.

The update he’d been waiting on came in. "We've been cleared for standard orbit," Garak announced.

"Do you have transport coordinates?" asked Damar.

"Yes," Seskal replied. "The transporter room is standing by."

Garak, Kira, Julian and Damar all made to leave the bridge. 

"The bridge is yours, Seskal," Damar said in farewell.

"Good luck."

Time to face Cardassia.

* * *

It took less than a minute to ascertain they’d been betrayed and needed to abort the mission… and then less than a minute after that to realize they had no escape. Seskal, the ship and all the rest of the crew were gone, in the same treachery and that had brought down those set to meet them. They need to get out of the caves, somewhere safe — and needed to do it quickly.

It was desperation that drove Garak’s decision. "I think I know someone who might take us in," he offered. "That is, if we can get to Cardassi'or."

"We can't stay here," muttered Kira. 

So to his old home — and Mila — it was. Was there sentiment in the choice? If there had been another option, perhaps, but there wasn't. 

The others followed him out, no one questioning how he knew his way through the caves or the countryside, once they emerged above ground. He gave occasional directions, remarking on landmarks, but for the first forty-five minutes there was no conversation. 

It was Julian who spoke up. "Um, Elim, not that I don't trust you, and I'm sure you know exactly where we're headed, but... where _are_ we headed exactly?"

Garak heard Damar give an amused huff behind him. He ignored it. 

"As I said, I know someone in the city," he explained. "A family friend, you could say, with a secure house and a large basement. If they agree to let us stay, it would be an ideal location."

"And if they don't?" asked Kira. 

"Then we come up with a new plan," Garak replied, holding up his arm to halt their progress as a Breen security patrol passed two blocks away. "We always need to be ready to change our plans."

Once they had resumed walking, the silence resumed for a couple of minutes, only for Julian to once again interrupt it. 

"Elim, I have a question," he began. "Are we by any chance going to Enabran Tain's house?"

Of course Julian would have guessed. The other two were clearly surprised. 

"Tain?" Damar choked. "He's dead, but... _his house_?"

"Yes," Garak told him impatiently. They were now walking down a lonely side street. "Obviously I knew Tain well. And I knew his housekeeper, Mila, for many, many years. She still lives in the house."

He didn't look at Julian, lest his glance give anything away, and trusting the man not to say anything about Tain. By now Julian knew that Garak shared his truths only at his own discretion, if ever. 

Damar seemed to accept this explanation readily enough. Kira for her part expressed disbelief they were sheltering in the home of the man who'd once headed the Obsidian Order, considering what they'd put her through a few years' earlier. 

"Stranger things have happened," Garak said lightly. "And I expect many strange things during our stay here."

* * *

Garak stood in front of the door, about to knock and viciously steering his mind away from thinking about the last time he been in the house. At the same time, he remembered it exactly. Cardassian memory was both a blessing and a curse. 

He knocked on the heavy door. 

When Damar raised an eyeridge, Garak explained. "There's a security panel, of course, but with the knock, Mila will be aware the visitor is atypical. And be even more likely to activate sensors that will show her quite clearly who's on the side of the door."

"The perks of being the housekeeper of Enabran Tain," Damar muttered. 

"Yes. Quite." Garak didn't know how long he was going to be able to keep up this farce — the one he been forced to present all his life — but for now he would still try. 

The door opened with a groan and Mila appeared, gray-haired and gray-gowned. She didn't look particularly happy to see him, let alone his companions. 

"Elim," she hissed. "And _these_ people?" 

"Mila," Garak said firmly, locking eyes with her in the way he rarely would've dared in the past. "You must know that I'm a wanted man. As are these three with me. We beamed down to the planet to—"

Mila waved impatiently for them to come inside. None of them asked questions but simply followed. "Keep talking, just not in the open," she said gruffly. They were now in the front hall. 

She stood and studied Garak, then each of the others. "You're with that doomed Cardassian Liberation Front, aren't you? I know you are, Elim." She shook her head wearily. "I never thought you'd be a rebel."

Garak was affronted. "I'm a patriot. The current government has nothing to do with Cardassia, it's the Dominion. We are puppets to them. And they are ready to destroy us."

"Hmm." Mila stepped up to the only other Cardassian in the room. "So this is Legate Damar. My, you _have_ made connections in high places, Elim."

"Madame Mila," Damar said respectfully, offering a half bow. "In the name of the Resistance, we plead for your aid, the shelter of your home. I know it is an imposition and I cannot lie, there is possible risk to you, but please, would you consider letting us stay here?"

"Please?" echoed Kira. "Garak says there's a basement."

Mila chuckled. "Your _friends_ said 'please,' I notice."

"You never even let me get around to what I was asking you for, you cut me off and—"

"Elim, _please_ ," Julian interrupted. "Excuse me, Madame Mila. My name is Julian Bashir and I know Elim from his years on Terok Nor, what the Federation calls Deep Space Nine." 

Garak noted the doctor had Mila's complete attention and, he strongly guessed, her immediate favor. 

"Kira here is also from the station,” Julian continued. “She was a fighter in the Bajoran Resistance and was asked by the Federation to teach resistance tactics to Damar's movement." He looked round the small group. "We're all here for the same reason: To unite Cardassia in pushing out the Dominion and taking back the planet. Then joining the Federation forces and defeating the Dominion entirely." 

Mila tilted her head back, miming surprise. "My, my. Are you sure you're not a legate?" She shook her head. "All right, follow me."

She led them to the cellar stairs and kept talking as they followed her down into the gloom. "If you don't mind hiding in a basement, I guess I don't mind having you down here," she grumped. "I don't hear from you for years, and then you show up on my doorstep with _these_ people."

It had been many years since Garak had last had a normal conversation with the woman, but this was all so familiar. 

"I do apologize for the intrusion," he said, "but you're the only person on Cardassia I could trust."

"Well, don't blame me if you don't have any friends left," she retorted. Typical. 

She moved off toward the wall "Well now, where's that light switch..." 

"It's smaller than I remember," he remarked, regarding the space lit only by light streaming in from upstairs. "I grew up in this house. Did I mention that?"

Damar frowned. "I thought you said Enabran Tain used to live here."

The lights came on. 

"Tain was Garak's father," Mila explained to all, as if this fact hadn't been a secret from all, including Garak himself, for most of his life.

Time for _some_ truth. "He was unable to acknowledge it publicly because he was head of the Obsidian Order," he quickly explained. "As I told you, Mila was our housekeeper and most trusted confidante." 

"I was never much of a cook, but I knew how to keep a secret," Mila joked. 

 _That_ was some truth. _With omissions._ He felt the others' eyes boring into him. There would be questions later. 

Kira got down to business. "We need to contact the other Resistance cells and warn them about Revok. Is there any way you can get us a comm unit?"

"If it's not too much of an imposition," Garak added.

Mila hardened. "You shouldn't be involved in this."

"But he _is_ ," Julian said, stepping forward. He looked almost as if he were... _protecting_ Garak? Or maybe just the group? "He _has_ to be. We _all_ have to be involved. We have to _fight_."

"We're attempting to free our people," Damar said forcefully, picking up the thread. "Do you want to live under the Dominion for the rest of your life?"

"I'm an old woman," Mila scoffed. "I'm long past caring about such things. But I'll get you your comm unit."

As she began to head towards the stairs, Garak was as gracious as he knew how. "Mila. Thank you. I promise we won't stay long."

And she was as gracious as she knew how. "Well, you might as well make yourselves useful." She gestured to a pile of dust rags. "This place hasn't been cleaned in years."

Kira threw a rag Garak's way. "You heard the lady."

He picked it up. "The glamor of being a revolutionary."

They dusted and examined boxes and covered furniture for a couple of minutes before the inevitable questions arose. 

"So, Garak..." Kira ventured. "All those years, the 'plain and simple tailor' routine, and not only were you former Obsidian Order, but your father was the _head_ of it?"

" _Former_ head," he clarified.

"That's irrelevant," the Bajoran scoffed. "So you knew Entek?" 

Garak nodded, not turning around as he dusted a shelf. He did notice Julian give him a sideways look. He hoped he'd keep out of this discussion as he had earlier. 

"No wonder the Captain had you come along on that rescue mission for me," she said thoughtfully. "And it explains many other things." She walked over to Julian. "So did _you_ know? About Enabran Tain being his father?"

"Yes," the doctor said. His voice was slightly muffled as he bent over opening up some boxes. "I found out when I was in the Dominion internment camp. Tain was there, and so was Garak of course."

"Oh. I see." Kira took a few steps backward. "I don't know why I even asked. Of course you would know. And know about the Order."

Julian hefted a box onto a nearby table. "Yes, but there's a lot I don't know. It's helped our relationship work."

"It's true," Garak admitted. 

Damar, who'd been in the back corner of the room, approached and dropped a heavy box on the table. "More lights. There are cots back there too, though they're pretty musty."

"Excellent," said Garak. "Then I suggest we get to work and settle in."

Damar nodded but then he looked around the space thoughtfully and pursed his lips and thought. "I have a question for you."

"I'll answer if I can," he replied, examining one of the lights. 

"Alright. My question is, if you were Tain's son, who was your mother and where is she now? And if Tain didn't acknowledge you as his son, who did? Someone must've done, or your mother must've."

Garak set the lamp back down. "Do you really think I'm going to spill _all_ my secrets? Especially personal ones?"

But now Julian had sorted everything from the box. "Good blankets. And they were more where this came from. The boxes were sealed up, so they're not too musty, and they're definitely clean."

"Nice find," said Kira. 

Mercifully, conversation moved away from Garak's past after that.

* * *

As evening arrived — they guessed, as there were no windows — Mila appeared with a full meal for them. She set down a bowl of hearty stew, a platter of mixed roasted vegetables, crusty bread, a pitcher of rokassa juice and even a bottle of kanar.

They were all gracious in their thanks and Garak invited her to join them. She'd already eaten, she protested, but he was sure she was curious about the group, despite herself. And he was glad to see her again and to have real, home-cooked Cardassian food. 

Damar hadn't been lying when he described his appetite. He shoveled in the food with enthusiasm, although not with the indecent haste with which Julian used to eat. Mila looked on approvingly. She also studied Julian, probably not for his eating habits, since he was familiar with all the dishes and eating perfectly normally, but she’d never seen a human in person. When Kira remarked that she hadn’t eaten Cardassian food since her unfortunate abduction, Mila sniffed but said nothing. 

After dinner Mila went upstairs only to return with fresh-brewed tea. Even as they all began to chat, plan, and mourn the loss of the crew and ship that had brought them to Cardassia, Mila stayed on, silent but listening. Eventually she did have some questions, however.

She wanted to know why Kira was now helping Cardassians and exactly how she’d gone from the Bajoran Resistance to wearing a Federation uniform. Mila also remarked she found it both surprising and impressive that such a small woman had been an active fighter. She must’ve stayed mostly at the rebel bases and done support work Mila conjectured. When Kira explained that, no, bomb-making, hand-to-hand combat, armed raids, flying shuttles, and all manner of combat and warfare were in her experience, the housekeeper cocked an eye ridge, then looked pointedly at Garak.

“Did you teach her to lie as well as you?” she asked. 

He actually wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not, but he still chuckled. “I assure you Kira is telling you the absolute truth. Why, not too long ago, I saw her take down a full-grown Cardassian man — a military officer — by herself, throwing him down on a table and putting him in a neck-lock.” He smiled at the memory and locked eyes with Damar. “Rusot. Believe me, he deserved it.”

“You never told me about that,” Damar blurted.

That was true. “We didn’t want to upset you. Remember how you were trying to accommodate and ‘support’ him? Well, we dealt with him on _our_ own. _In_ our own way.”

Conversation moved on after that. Damar wanted to know more about how Dominion occupation had impacted life for ordinary citizens in Cardassia. What restrictions were they under? Were there food shortages? How was security? This morphed into a discussion of Damar’s own history with the Dominion and what exactly had made him turn against it. His only regret, he said, was that he hadn’t come to his senses sooner.

Almost inevitably, Mila turned to Julian, who’d been talking all along but hadn’t offered any more personal information. 

“So what about you?” she began. “You’re Human, presumably, and work for the Federation, on Terok Nor. How exactly did you end up with the Cardassian Resistance — directly, and not taking messages from somewhere safe in a Federation outpost?”

Julian rubbed the sides of his face before answering. “Well, that’s a long story. But the short version is, I _was_  — past tense — working on the station, which we call Deep Space Nine. I was a Starfleet doctor, Chief Medical Office in fact. That’s obviously where I met Garak. We were friends and even wound up imprisoned together by the Dominion along with Tain and others. Garak told me notified you of his death afterward.” 

Garak realized Julian was trying to formulate his words in a way which might not give away their relationship. He admired him for his tact and for picking up on the fact that it might be necessary, even though they hadn't discussed it. 

“So that was about two years ago. But then something came up. It was discovered… or I should say, I was found out, to be a Human Augment. That is, I’m genetically engineered. Within the Federation and in Starfleet, this disqualifies you from serving and from being a doctor, but I had concealed by status to get in and had kept on concealing it to keep my job. It would have ruined everything, and made me a bit of an outcast in the Federation. But in any case, doesn’t matter how really, my secret was found out and I was summarily dismissed. Effectively, I was exiled.”

At these words, Mila gave Garak a shrewd look that Garak didn’t miss. 

“After that, I left the station and moved down to Bajor, where I’ve been practicing medicine ever since. I haven’t been able to join the war because I’m not really Federation and yet would probably be singled out as Federation if I were with another group. But I wanted to get involved, all along, especially since I was hearing everything from Garak, and also from people I still knew on the station, like Kira. So when _this_ came up… I jumped.”

“That’s quite a tale,” the housekeeper huffed. “I don’t know whether to believe you or not. Or if I should believe a quarter, half or none.” She looked to Garak. “Again, I have to say, I find it likely you’ve taught your friends how to lie. Not as smoothly as you do, but fairly well.”

Garak bowed his head. “Well, I won’t argue with you, because I know it’s useless.”

Everyone had by this point drunk all their tea and after such a long day, it felt like time to retire. Damar and Julian stood and pulled out all the blankets they’d found and began laying them out on the cots. 

Mila observed from her seat. “I see you’ve found everything you need. Except pillows. I’ll bring some down.”

She stood and walked towards the stairs, only to stop. “Why don’t you come with me, Elim? And you, Dr. Bashir? If you don’t mind.”

Julian, tucking a blanket around a mattress, froze for a second, startled, but quickly straightened. “Of course.”

Garak watched Mila climb the steps and waited for Julian. “I’m not sure what she wants to talk to us about.”

“Not _pillows_?”

“I very much doubt it.” He started up the stairs. “Just… well, I don’t know what to tell you except… take my lead I suppose."

Julian reached out from behind and clasped Garak’s hand for a moment. “I’ll take your lead.”

They found Mila down the hall in what looked like a guest room, where she was pulling pillows off two beds. When they entered, she set them down on a dresser and stood in front of it, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’d like you two to sit down.” She gestured towards a bed with her chin. Naturally they sat down. “Good. Now the reason I called you up here is I wanted to tell you that, irrespective of anything I think about your Resistance, I’m very happy for you two.”

Garak attempted the blank face he’d perfected over the years, the one that said “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“ _Elim_.” Mila sighed softy through her nose. “You didn’t tell me, you two didn’t say a word, but I could tell from the start. You and the doctor are a couple.”

Garak glanced at Julian and saw his mouth was hanging slightly open. 

“Ah, how did you know?” Julian asked, sounding a little unsure.

Mila dropped her arms to her sides. “Many ways. First off, _you_ used the name _Elim_ several times. And Elim here calls you by your first name, too. That’s just not done, unless you’re an intimate. Maybe you don’t realize that, not being Cardassian.”

True, that one _was_ obvious, thought Garak.

“There were lots of other small things. The way you look at one another. Glances back and forth. And when you talked about being an exile and then how you felt compelled to join the Resistance… Well, that sealed it for me."

“Huh,” Julian admitted, “it does seem rather obvious. Not that we were exactly trying to hide it. We just weren’t… _revealing_ it.”

“As I said, Elim is rubbing off on all of you. Lies of omission.” She stepped closer to the bed. “So long has it been?”

Julian continued to be the one to talk with her. “Since the day I was thrown out of Starfleet and exiled,” he admitted. “I went to talk to Elim about it, as a friend, and to maybe get some advice and… one thing led to another. It had been building for a few years.”

“After his circumstances changed, he couldn’t live on the station,” Garak chimed in, “and I couldn’t very well live on Bajor, so I remained on the station. But we visited one another often, barring separations during wartime.”

“So by joining the Resistance you could be with Elim, Doctor,” Mila observed.

Julian frowned slightly. “Yes, obviously, but what I said downstairs is true — I really _did_ , and _do_ , want to do something to fight against the Dominion. I couldn’t stand being on the sidelines.”

Mila stepped closer, until she was standing directly in front of them. She reached out and put one hand on Julian’s shoulder, one hand on Garak’s. “Well, whatever your motivations for staying with him, and however it happened you’re together, I just want to tell you… tell Elim… that I’m happy for you. I’m an old woman and of all the things I thought I’d see, I didn’t think it would be Elim in a relationship with, honestly _anyone_.”

“Let alone a male Federation doctor, isn’t that right?” Garak teased.

“That might be more in line with what one _might_ expect from you, actually,” Mila deadpanned. She stepped back and returned to the dresser. Picking up two pillows in each hand, she held them up. “Now bring these downstairs and get some sleep. I’ll be down in the morning with breakfast.”

Julian accepted his two pillows. “Thank you, Madame Mila. I… didn’t know what to expect here."

“Understandable,” she replied brusquely. “But please call me Mila. No ‘Madame’ necessary. I’m only a housekeeper.”

Garak took his two pillows and inclined his head. He was so overwhelmed by her reaction he didn’t know what to say.

* * *

After breakfast the next morning, they got to work with the comm unit, but weren't having much luck reaching anyone. And the first steady signal they ran into wasn't one they were looking for: Weyoun, coming in on all channels, beginning a planetary-wide message message.

"Greetings, Dominion citizens of Cardassia," he began, with the same insipid face and tone they had all grown so familiar with.

While the Vorta rattled off a couple of paragraphs worth of platitudes regarding the Dominion and how much it had done to raise the standard of living on Cardassia, Garak and the others traded a few barbs.

"I hate him," Damar growled. "I’ll kill him, or any Weyoun clone, with my bare hands."

"Me too," Kira echoed. "Definitely up there with my least favorite people in the galaxy."

Garak nodded approvingly. "Dukat being another, I presume?"

"Yup."

"I've not dealt with Weyoun, and of course I've loathed Dukat since first I met him," Julian said, "but do you know who I _really_ loathe?" He paused for effect. "With all respect to the Vedek Assembly, Kira... but Kai Winn."

"No argument here," Kira assured him. "Definitely worth loathing!" 

Weyoun seem to be wrapping up the pointless intro to his presentation. Although maybe that was the entire thing.

"At least they're not looking for us," Kira remarked. 

But then a glint appeared in Weyoun's purple eyes. "I'm also pleased to report that just hours ago, acting on information obtained by our intelligence operatives, our brave troops began a coordinated assault on Damar's terrorist bases."

All of them leaned forward towards the monitor.

"From Atbar Prime to Regulak Four, from Simperia to Quinor Seven, our forces have eliminated a total of eighteen rebel bases."

"All _eighteen_ ," Damar gasped, horrified.

"With the Rebellion crushed," Weyoun continued, "nothing can impede our march to final victory. Truly, this is a great day for the Dominion."

Garak felt like he'd been caught under a landslide. Julian looked as though he felt the same.

Damar was the one who exploded. "How could they have compromised our entire organization? We took every precaution, encrypted every transmission, screened every recruit—"

"It doesn't matter how they did it!" Kira snapped. "It's done! Now, we've got to find a way to get off Cardassia." She turned and got to business, ever the pragmatist, ready to take action. "Garak, can we use that thing to contact the Federation?"

Well, it was easy to answer that question. "With a signal that strong the Dominion would trace our location in a matter of seconds."

"Well, we've got to do _something_!" That was true enough, but at the moment things looked bleak. "We are not spending the rest of the war in this cellar, are we! _Are we?_ "

* * *

A few hours later, presumably late afternoon, there were no closer to a Plan B or Plan C.

They hadn't been very interested in lunch but they had drunk some kanar. 

Kira shared some stories about drinking while holed up in mountain caves during the Occupation. The Cardassians were blocking the best routes out and the remaining routes were blocked with snow. It passed the time.

Julian went on to describe how much he'd wanted a drink during the days he'd been sent to Ajilon Prime to serve in the emergency clinic after Klingons began attacking the Federation colony. It was a rough, stressful time, but of course no one could drink, because casualties were coming in all the time. When he finally got back to the station, even though he’d been wounded, he made it a goal to get to Quark's as soon as he could. 

By the time they've gone through a couple of small bottles, they were not completely soused, but they were certainly lethargic. Conversation died down and one by one, they went back to their cots and fell asleep. 

A couple of hours later, they were awake again and had tuned in to hear more reports about Resistance losses. Then gone back to their cots to lie down again and mope.

This was when the door opened at the top of the stairs and Mila came down. 

"If only they could see you now," she teased. 

"Who?" Garak asked.

"People in the street," she answered. She'd been out and about then, Garak realized. "Everyone's talking about Damar and his rebels."

Kira didn't hide her gloomy mood. "What are they saying? How stupid we were for walking into a Dominion trap?" 

Damar piggybacked on this. "How arrogant we were to think we could beat them in the first place?" 

"How our failure was proof Cardassians can no longer resist the Dominion?" Julian said bitterly.

Garak was last to posit a guess about what people on the streets were saying. "How glad they are that we're dead?"

"Actually," said Mila, "they don't really believe you _are_ dead."

As one, their ears perked up.

"Oh, you should hear the stories," she asserted. "Damar is _alive_. My cousin saw him on Kelvas Prime. He faked his own death. He is plotting a new offensive from his secret mountain hideaway."

Garak turned to Damar. "You never told me you had a secret mountain hideaway."

"I was going to surprise you." There it was, that somewhat rare but certainly present dry sens of humor.

Kira's eyes lit up with new energy "I wonder why they refuse to believe you're dead?"

"Oh, they've been lied to so often, they don't trust _anything_ the Dominion says." Damar certainly had caused to be cynical where the Dominion was concerned.

"What if it's more than that?" Kira questioned, growing a little bit more excited. "What if we had more of an impact than we realized? What if we turned you into a _legend_?"

Damar scoffed. "Some _legend_."

But now Kira was adamant. The Bajoran Resistance fighter was back. "Don't you see?" she asked. "People want to believe in you. We can use that. Yes, the organized Resistance is gone, but there's an entire civilian population out there that is fed up with living under the occupation. And if Damar, the man they couldn't kill, tells the people of Cardassia to rise up against the Dominion—"

"Then we might have a _revolution_ on our hands," Garak finished for her. 

"Or you might _really_ get yourselves killed," Mila countered. Behind her back, Julian smothered snicker

"Anything's better than rotting in this cellar," Damar groused. "How do we begin?"

"Where's the closest Jem'Hadar barracks?"

Apparently it was now time for action.

* * *

Because they'd had to prepare an explosive device, it wasn't until night that they reached the barracks. As it turned out, the components for bomb making were in the house. Why? Because of Tain. Mila said she didn't even know why; at some point Tain had just told her where they were and to be sure they stayed dry. So she'd kept them. 

Garak had successfully planted and armed the device and was on his way back to meet the others, waiting in the street outside, when he was stopped by a Jem'Hadar soldier demanding to see his work order.

"But I showed it to you on the way in," he protested politely. Time was very short.

The soldier studied the PADD Garak had reprogrammed and forged. "This has not been approved by the First."

"Ah. Yes," he hedged, doing his best to appear nonthreatening and not in a hurry. "I can explain that."

But the Jem'Hadar was implacable. "It must be approved by the First."

Garak was running out of time, "I don't know why you're making such a fuss over this. I have a busy repair schedule and I can't stand here all night arguing with—"

"You will wait here until the First arrives."

These blasted Dominion soldiers! The detonator was set to go off in moments. "And how long will _that_ be?"

"You will wait." Implacable. How he hated them.

"You! Jem'Hadar!" Suddenly Damar approached. "Who are you to treat a Cardassian citizen like that?"

The soldier was stunned. "It's him. _Damar_. Hold him here. Surrender yourself or die."

"I choose neither."

A moment later, before the nuisance Jem'Hadar could raise a weapon, Kira had shot him. Garak stabbed another soldier in the neck, while Julian threw the man down on the ground hard. 

Then they all ran like hell. "Get back! Get back!" Damar roared, so no Cardassians near the building would be killed.

They were just in time, for that's when the bomb went off, and a very successful bomb it was, clearly doing lots of damage. A few people went flying. Garak would have spared them a thought, but right now he saw groups of Cardassians approaching the Resistance leader, who was now standing right before them. Julian and Kira slid off into the shadows as the scene unfolded.

"It's Damar. It's Damar!" one man cried. "He's alive!"

And now Damar shed the pessimism he'd wallowed in all day in the basement.

"Citizens of Cardassia, hear me!" he began, his strong voice reaching everyone in the rapidly growing crowd. "The Dominion told you that the Rebellion has been crushed. What you have seen here today proves that that is yet another lie." 

Every pair of eyes was riveted on Damar's face. 

"Our fight for freedom continues, but it will take place here, in the streets. I call on Cardassians everywhere to rise up. Rise up and join me. I need you to be my army. If we stand together, nothing can oppose us."

And he issued the rallying cry. "Freedom is ours for the taking!"

Garak couldn't help himself and was the first to respond. "FREEDOM!"

Another man followed, then another and another, until they were all shouting the word. 

In the back of his mind, Garak knew a Bajoran and Human were watching and listening from the shadows, but this was not the time for them. This was a time for Cardassians. 


	13. The Assault: What You Leave Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, arriving at the last episode, and the final battle for Cardassia. This chapter, while admittedly about 80% events and dialog lifted straight from ["What You Leave Behind,"](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/What_You_Leave_Behind_\(episode\)) was rewarding to write, as I truly love these final moments on the show and getting to relive them -- and change them, describe them more -- was a treat. There are also several new scenes and embellishments. And because this is told from Julian's POV, there are some things and certainly some thoughts injects into the story that wouldn't be there otherwise.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys. And as always, thanks so much for all the comments, kudos and all the subscribers.

Julian had been alone in the basement for two hours, monitoring whatever Resistance reports and messages he could get, ready to relay them to the others when they returned. Hopefully that would be soon, because the amount of time they'd been out was making him worry.

First Damar and Garak had left for a meeting, under the cover of darkness, and then Kira had slipped out to shadow them and, she said, cover them. Julian had no idea how Kira planned to conceal herself, but didn't question her. She obviously knew how to protect herself. 

Lost in the information on the comm unit, Julian startled a bit when he heard Mila's steps on the stairs. Normally he heard her before she reached the door. 

"I've brought you some flatbread," she announced, setting down a tray. "And some sauces. I'm not sure what a human would like."

The plate was piled high. "Thank you, Mila. I actually was feeling hungry. But I wouldn't have bothered you."

The old woman took a seat next to him. "Worry makes you hungry." She patted her side with a sardonic chuckle. "I should know."

"How do you know I'm worried?" he asked, as he spread a dark purple paste onto a piece of flatbread. He hadn’t the faintest idea what the spread was, but there was a lot of flatbread, so if it turned out to be inedible, he'd just try something else.

Mila huffed. “Because the men left without you and then Kira went out after them. I saw on my monitors. And since they haven't been back in almost two hours, and you're sitting here scanning the news and communications, you _must_ be worried."

Julian took a bite of flatbread. The spread was rather good, tasting quite a bit like black olives. He appreciated the woman's caring. 

"Are you close to your parents, Doctor?" she asked.

He held up a hand while he swallowed. "No. I... well, I found out about the genetic enhancements when I was a teenager, and nothing was the same after that. I didn't even feel like they were really my parents. Once I left Earth, I did my best to forget about them." Mila was eyeing him speculatively and he guessed her thought. "And maybe that's one of the reasons I chose the posting at Deep Space Nine in the first place – to be far away."

He picked up another piece of flatbread but didn't add any spread, although he kept his eyes lowered. "My parents did wind up coming to the station, though, which is a long story and tied up with how I was exposed to Starfleet and exiled." Now he did look up. Mila was listening attentively, as expected. "I haven't spoken to them since."

Mila rubbed the scales on her chin. "Neither you nor Elim have had much of a normal life, or a normal relationship with your parents. Another reason why you get on, I expect."

She pushed back from the table and stood. "Well, you finish up that bread, or try to. I'm sure Damar will take care of any leftovers." She started up the stairs. "Goodnight, Julian."

After she'd left, Julian kept his eyes on the comm unit and worked through the flatbread. But most of his mind was occupied with processing Mila's words. 

Garak's relationship with his parents hadn't been normal? Well, that was obvious. Tain had been his father, although the old man had tried to deny it even on his deathbed.

Damar's speculation had to be correct; if Tain hadn't claimed Garak as his son, some other man _must_ have. Who was he?

And as for his mother, Julian didn't need to wonder, he _knew_.  Garak could call Mila the “housekeeper” all he liked and she might have been, but she was with near certainty his mother. 

Why mother and son were both playing this game, even now, with Tain gone, Julian didn't know, but he wasn't about to break it up any time soon. Garak had enough on his mind without explaining his past, which was always his least favorite subject. But just knowing without saying anything helped Julian a great deal. 

* * *

It was another half an hour before his compatriots returned to the house. Garak and Damar looked the same as ever, but Kira's hair was mussed and she was bathed in sweat. 

"What happened?" Julian asked, rising from his seat. "What kept you so long?"

"Everything's fine," Garak assured him. "The meeting went well and we have solid plans for tomorrow. But there was a bit of a snag as we made our way home."

" _Snag?_ " asked Kira, incredulous. "You call being stopped by a Jem'Hadar, who threatened to kill you on the spot, a _snag_?" 

"Well, we're alive, aren't we?" Garak teased. He inclined his head to the Bajoran and set his hand on Julian's upper back. "In all seriousness, yes, we were caught, but Kira had suited herself up as a Breen and stationed herself outside our meeting place. When it was clear we required assistance–"

"I shot the damn Jem'Hadar," Kira finished for him. 

Damar had been taking off his shoes but was now at the desk checking the comm.  

When he glanced at the empty plate on the table, Julian spoke up. 

"If you're hungry, Mila might have more of that flatbread," he suggested. "It was delicious. She's probably still up."

"Good," Damar muttered, still scanning communications. 

Julian decided now was the time to let them all know what he'd seen come up in their absence. Halfway through his summary, Damar held up a hand. 

"You know Cardassian, don't you?" he asked. He pointed at the device and waved at the screen. "You couldn't possibly get all that if you didn't."

Julian tilted his head down and smiled. "I can _read_ it, Damar. I decided to learn it once I moved down to Bajor." He looked up and met Kira's eyes. "Which sounds odd, I know, but I had the time, and as you can imagine, I learn quickly. I also learned Bajoran. That I can speak. Cardassian… not so much. I haven’t really practiced."

"Well, I'm impressed," Damar said. "I guess you really _do_ belong in this revolution after all."

Julian mockingly sighed in relief. "Oh, good. I'd hate to think I was hiding in a basement in Cardassi'or for no reason."

After this Damar recounted the meeting – how many were there, what factions were represented, and what arguments they'd had. 

"But the vote was unanimous," Garak chimed in. "The work disruptions begin tomorrow."

"Power, communication and transportation facilities throughout Cardassia will be sabotaged," Damar announced firmly.

"That's brilliant!" Julian exclaimed. "I mean, the concept doesn’t sound good, but I do get the point of it."

"The Dominion fleet will be cut off from all ground support," Garak confirmed. 

"That way," Kira said, "they'll have to face the invasion force on their own."

Damar made his hand into a fist. "And once the Dominion is crushed–"

"All Cardassia will be free again," Mila finished for him. They turned to see her descending the stairs carrying a tray. 

She approached Garak. "Oh, when you were a small boy, I was worried about you," she said fondly. "Always getting in trouble. So _secretive_ , so full of deceit. Who would have thought those distasteful characteristics would be turned to virtues?” She held up the tray. "More tea?"

Julian could see Garak struggling to keep a straight face. "You're too kind."

* * *

Morning the next day was mostly dull. Most of the work disruptions would not begin until afternoon. So while they did monitor communications and reports, they also continued to sort out the basement. And they chatted. At one point they got to talking about what they might do after the war – not just after the liberation of Cardassia, but after the Dominion was no longer a threat. 

"Well, I'll be going back to the station, obviously," Kira said. "Bajor will need me as much as ever."

"And then there's Odo," Julian remarked. 

Kira pursed her lips into a smile. "There's that, too."

"What about you?" Julian asked Damar.

"I think it's too soon to say, given where we are right now," he hedged. "But my best guess is that I'll have to jump into government, like never before. We'll need to rebuild the entire enterprise. Restore faith, after what does the Dominion did to us."

This was another small speech, Julian noted. Damar had a talent for inspiring. Certainly essential in a revolutionary leader. 

"What about you, Garak?" the former legate asked. 

"My plans are about the same as yours, my friend," he said with relish. "I certainly don't plan to go back to Terek Nor. I'm calling my exile over."

"As well you should. And no more tailoring?"

"Well, perhaps as a hobby."

Julian, standing behind Garak while he worked the comm station, took him lightly by the shoulders. "And wherever you go, I go, dear. No matter how many xenophobes I have to face."

"You say that now, but it will be a challenge, I promise."

"I can handle it, Elim."

* * *

By late afternoon things were really happening. Reports of disruptions were coming in from all over Cardassi'or and from what they could tell, around the planet. Finally, the city's own power went down – perfect.

After activating some emergency lightsticks, they settled in to see how long Cardassi'or could be held hostage. The close air of the basement was filled with nervous excitement. 

"It's been twenty-four minutes," Damar announced. He'd been delivering terse updates all along.

"Not bad," Kira remarked. 

Julian was in agreement. Taking down a modern city's power grid took some doing. 

Garak, fiddling with some piece of equipment on the table – Julian honestly wasn't sure what – added his assessment. "If the Dominion hasn't been able to restore power to the capital, then the entire planet must be in chaos."

Damar kept his hopes tempered. "I hope so."

Mila arrived downstairs, having navigated the dark staircase. "I'm afraid I was only able to find two more lightsticks," she apologized. "There's more about the house somewhere but I just couldn't–"

"Just stop dawdling and give them to me," Garak interrupted impatiently. _His nerves must be frayed_ , Julian thought.

"How well I remember that tone of voice," Mila drawled. "It reminds me of the demanding and inconsiderate boy you used to be."

Garak was circumspect. "I haven't changed much, have I?"

Julian wondered about that. Would he ever know Garak's past? 

Damar took this moment to make another small speech. "This will send a clear message to the Dominion. The Cardassian people will fight to regain their freedom."

"I hope they realize their fight is just beginning," Kira countered. "We're going to have to hit the enemy again and harder this time."

"That won't be easy," said Garak, still working on whatever device he had on the table. They will have tightened their security."

"That doesn't matter. We can't lose our momentum." Kira's dedication to the cause seemed absolute. She really _was_ a freedom fighter, for _whoever’s_ freedom, Julian now saw. 

"The Commander is right," Damar declared. "We cannot rest until Cardassia's free. And when it is, we'll have you to thank for it. Without you, this rebellion would have died in its infancy."

Garak turned away from his work briefly and looked around at the group. "Ironic, isn't it? The savior of Cardassia, a former Bajoran terrorist."

"Don't canonize me just yet," Kira scoffed.

"It's hard not to," Julian admitted. "You're amazing."

Kira looked as if she were about to say something when the power and lights came back on. 

Damar clicked off his stopwatch. "It's been twenty-six and a half minutes." He switched the comm unit to the official channel.  "Let's see what the Dominion has to say for itself."

As expected, Weyoun came on screen. "Citizens of Cardassia," he began, in his insipid voice. "This latest wave of vandalism directed against your Dominion allies must stop."

"I wouldn't count on it," Garak muttered. 

Weyoun continued. "We know these disgraceful acts of sabotage were carried out by a mere handful of extremists." He sounded like a parent chastising a child, Julian thought. "But these radicals must come to realize that their disobedience will not be tolerated. That _you_ , the Cardassian people, will suffer the consequences of their cowardly actions."

So, what was the Dominion going to do? They were about to find out.

"Which is why I must inform you a few moments ago, Dominion troops reduced Lakarian City to ashes. There were no survivors. Two million men, women and children gone in a matter of moments."

Julian's eyes shot to Garak, who shuddered as if he'd been hit by a phaser to the chest. 

"For each act of sabotage committed against the Dominion, another Cardassian city will be destroyed. I implore you not to let that happen."

Julian could feel rage rising, like a cauldron boiling over. _Those people!_

"Let us return to the spirit of friendship and cooperation between our peoples, so that together, we can defeat our common enemies, the Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans and all the others that stand against us. Thank you."

For several moments, there was silence. 

Then Damar exploded. "I should've killed that Vorta jackal when I had the chance."

"You want another one?" Kira suggested. "We'll attack Dominion Headquarters."

Julian saw Garak snap out of his trance. "Chop off a snake's head and the body will die," he said.

"Exactly." Kira turned to their leader. "Damar, for the past two years you've practically lived in that building."

"If you're asking me if I know a way in, the answer is no," he told her. "Not without a valid security protocol."

"Well, strike that off the list," Julian said.

Kira was undeterred. "We'll use force. We're going to need some kind of explosives."

Garak was on his feet. "I'll get right on it."

Suddenly Mila spoke up. "What you're proposing is suicide!" she exclaimed.

Garak would have none of it. "If you don't have anything positive to say, Mila-"

"All right, I'll prepare some food," she grumbled. "Nobody should die on an empty stomach."

* * *

During the thirty minutes or so Mila was away fixing a meal, the only conversation, if you could call it that, was between Garak and Kira, as they assembled a bomb. Both of them had experience in that area. Julian had no doubt that they, like all of them, were processing the instant death of two million people. And the destruction of an entire city – its history, architecture, art, libraries, everything. 

When Mila returned with a large tray and spread out the dishes, Damar tucked in eagerly, as did Julian. The woman had been self-deprecating about her cooking skills, but he rather liked the meals he'd been getting. Kira and Garak came to the table a couple of minutes later, having to finish up on one stage of the explosive device. 

Julian noticed Garak's gaze was unfocused, aimed at the middle distance, as he ate slowly, with little enthusiasm. 

Mila noticed the same thing, as mothers are apt to. "You've hardly touched your meal," she chastised him lightly. "No wonder you're not looking well."

"I'm not looking well because I live in a cellar," he groused. 

"Well, so does Legate Damar," she said, gesturing to the tall man, who was finishing off what had started as a very full plate

Garak gave Damar side-eye. "And what about him?"

"Well, he's finished everything on his plate," Mila said, plying Damar with seconds. "Which explains why he is such a fine, handsome figure of a man."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you," Garak huffed.

" _I_ do," Kira chimed in mirthfully. "Mila, I believe you're falling in love."

Predictably, the old woman scoffed. "Oh, I'm old enough to be his mother."

Julian glanced at Garak's face quickly enough to catch a slight flinch. _You're not fooling me, Elim._

"Nonsense," Damar scoffed. 

Mila was unimpressed with his flattery. "Politicians."

From upstairs they heard a doorbell ring.

"Who could that be?" Garak asked. Julian was sure he could see alarm lurking in his eyes.

"I'll go see," Mila said, and took to the stairs. 

They continued to eat for a minute or so, until both Garak and Damar stopped.

"What's taking her so long?" Damar wondered 

Now Julian was sure Garak was worried. "I don't know..."

Suddenly the door atop the stairs burst open. All of them jumped up to see. And then a body tumbled down. The body of a gray-haired woman. 

"Mila!" Garak yelled, rushing forward toward her.

Just then Julian saw a metal object bounce down the steps. With lightning calculation and all his augmented speed, he rushed forward and yanked Garak away. The man wasn't budging, but Julian shoved 

Kira was shouting. "Garak! Julian! Get out of there!"

And then the grenade exploded. They were knocked down, but not hurt. He and Garak had dodged it barely in time. He’d pulled him far enough away.

Raising his head and looking across the floor, he saw that Mila's body had not escaped the blast. He quickly looked away. He couldn't be sick. Not now.

To his right Kira was crawling forward, seeking a rifle on the ground. But before she could get it in her hands, a Jem'Hadar appeared. 

Along with the others, Julian repositioned himself to sit on the floor but did not rise. A mix of Jem'Hadar and Cardassian soldiers had them surrounded. 

One of the Jem'Hadar was speaking on his communicator. "Understood. It will be done at once," Julian heard him say. "On your feet."

"Why?" Kira demanded, as they were being half dragged to stand at the foot of the stairs.

"We prefer our prisoners to be standing when they die," the soldier in charge replied.

"Does anyone have any last words?" 

 _Trust Elim to say something like that_ , thought Julian.

"You may kill us, but Cardassia will never–"

_And for Damar to start in on a speech!_

"Enough!" the Jem'Hadar barked. "Final words are not permitted."

"How disappointing," Garak quipped. 

Julian and Garak managed to make eye contact. This would probably be the last thing they would ever see.

Now was the moment. "Ready weapons," the Dominion soldier ordered. "On my mark–"

Julian grabbed Garak's hand and braced himself. But the deadly blasts never came – not for them. Instead the Cardassian soldiers took out their Dominion masters. In a matter of seconds, their would-be executioners were dead.

"That's for Lakarian City," spat the Cardassian at the center front of the group. "Legate Damar, I pledge my life to free Cardassia from the Dominion."

Somehow, despite the shock of a last minute reprieve, Damar managed an eloquent rejoinder. "With men like you on our side, how can we fail?"

* * *

A half hour later, while Kira, Damar and the other Cardassians, who'd in short order brought boxes of weapons, prepared for the assault, Garak paced the upstairs rooms and halls disconsolately. Julian stood in the archway between the living room and the hall and watched his partner. He wanted to speak but hesitated. Maybe it was best to leave him alone with his thoughts and just be present.

Finally, Garak ducked into a room and disappeared. When he was gone for over a minute, Julian decided to investigate. When he reached the door, he found it was a bedroom, undoubtedly Mila's. Garak was sitting on the bed, holding a carved hair clip.  Julian knew the former spy realized he was being watched, but he didn't look up.

"Elim," he said softly. "I'm so sorry. To have it happen like that, thrown down–"

"She knew the risks," he interrupted angrily, looking up, blue eyes glittering. "And so did I."

Julian took a cautious step into the room. He had to say it. " _Elim_. She was your _mother_."

Garak gasped and dropped the hair clip into his lap. "Yes, she was," he said faintly. 

Silently Julian moved to sit on the bed beside him. He rested his hand on Garak's thigh. "I guessed very quickly," he whispered. 

Garak nodded. "Of course you did. But you didn't say anything. Thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for," Julian said. 

They sat together in silence for a few minutes. 

Until the explosions started. Aerial bombardment. 

Garak rushed to the window, looked out, then rushed into the hall and into more rooms, and over to more windows. 

"We need to go, _NOW_!" he barked. 

He rushed to the cellar door and Julian followed close behind.

"It's the Jem'Hadar!" Garak yelled, coming down the stairs. "They're leveling the city building by building."

"All right, we have to go now," Kira said, steeling herself and packing her weapons.

Damar addressed the group. "Once we get inside the complex, we stop at nothing until we capture the Changeling.

"Let it be done!" cried Ekoor, the Cardassian who had initially pledged his loyalty to Damar.

"We're with you!" the other Cardassians shouted.

"For Cardassia!" 

A rallying cry. " _For Cardassia!_ " the group repeated, before following Damar up the stairs. 

That left Julian, Kira and Garak. The Bajoran mounted the steps and started climbing, but then stopped when she realized they hadn't followed. Or, really, Garak hadn't followed. Julian was simply waiting on him.

"Garak." In Kira's one word, an unspoken question. 

Julian watched as Garak stood looking lost. "All during the years of my exile, I imagined what it would be like to come home." He looked around the desolate basement, filled with corpses. "I even thought of living in this house again with Mila. But now she's dead, and this house is about to be reduced to a pile of rubble. My Cardassia's gone."

Julian's heart broke. He didn't know what to say.

But Kira did. "Then fight for a new Cardassia."

Another explosion, this one feeling closer, rocked the house. "I have an even better reason, Commander," Garak said, now climbing the steps. " _Revenge_."

"That works, too," Julian heard Kira say, as he trailed behind the other two, on to face another battle. 

* * *

Not too long afterwards, Julian found himself huddling behind a row of barrels, just yards from Dominion Headquarters. Garak had gone to scope out the cargo door and everyone else was waiting.

After a couple minutes he returned and slid down between Julian and Kira.

"We have a problem," he announced.

Kira raised an eyebrow. "Just _one_?"

"I'm afraid it's a rather _large_ problem, Garak explained. "The cargo door is made of neutronium."

Julian instantly knew what this meant and so did Kira. "Then the explosives we brought aren't even going to make a _dent_."

"You see the problem," Garak concluded drily.

"What do we do?" asked Ekoor, looking for guidance

"I don't know, but I'm through hiding in basements," Damar grumbled.

Julian couldn't help it. He chuckled, though he covered his mouth with his hand. Garak made a face and laughed out loud.

"I fail to see what is so funny, you two," Damar said, irritated.

"Isn't it obvious? Here we are, ready to storm the castle–" Garak wheezed through laughter "–willing to sacrifice our lives in a noble effort to slay the Dominion beast in its lair, and we can't even get inside the gate."

Everyone broke out into laughter, half smothered but there. It felt good after the buildup of tension.

Kira laughed so hard she had to had to wipe tears from her eyes. "Maybe we could go to the door and ask the Jem'Hadar to let us in."

Julian covered his mouth to keep from barking out more laughter.

"Or just have them send the Shapeshifter out to us," Damar sputtered.

Garak sighed. "As I said, we have a problem."

Time to get serious. And they did. 

"What if I give myself up?" Damar asked them. "Pretend to be your prisoner?"

Kira shook her head. "They'd kill you on sight."

"And us along with you," Garak added. 

Suddenly Ekoor rose up and pointed toward the building. "The cargo door!" 

Julian stood up in time to see three Cardassians being pushed out the door into the alley by Jem'Hadar.

"You're making a terrible mistake," he heard one of them plead. "I'm not a traitor! Please, just let me speak to the Founder. No, _wait_!"

And then he and the other two were screaming as the Jem'Hadar ran them through with bayonets.

" _NO!_ " Damar roared and shot the Jem'Hadar. Then he ran straight to the door, weapon out. It was clearly time for a charge.

"For Cardassia!" Ekoor bellowed, following behind. Julian locked eyes with Garak and together they ran. 

Most of the group made it into the bay, but unfortunately so did a few Jem'Hadar. 

Trailing just behind Damar and Garak, Julian saw Jem'Hadar appear at the end of the bay and then saw Damar convulse. He'd been hit.

Garak caught his friend as he fell and dragged him toward cover. "Fall back, fall back!" he yelled, at the top of his lungs.

The rebels scattered as best they could. Julian and Kira went straight to Garak, who was holding Damar in his arms. Julian took in the burnt hole in his chest and knew what it meant.

Damar struggled to breathe. "Keep–"

And then it was over.

"He's dead," Garak quietly announced. 

As usual, Kira wasn't rattled. "Remember his orders!" she shouted. "We stop for nothing!"

Garak dropped the body and stood. "For Cardassia!"

The rest of the Cardassian rebels rushed into the bay, weapons out. "For Cardassia!"

A few minutes later, after a furious dash down hallways and assaults that left only five of them, Julian stood with Garak, Kira, Ekoor and a Cardassian he didn't know outside the door of Headquarters’ briefing room. Kira had Ekoor had just shot down the two Jem'Hadar guarding it. 

"Ready?" Kira asked.

"Ready!" Garak affirmed, and shot two weapons at once at the door, blasting it open. 

As they burst inside, the Cardassian whose name Julian didn't know shot another Jem'Hadar dead. Only a moment later, the remaining Dominion soldier shot him back and he dropped. Kira took out that the Jem'Hadar in turn.

Julian followed Garak as Kira took the lead approaching Weyoun and the Founder. 

"Well, Colonel Kira," Weyoun greeted them. "What a pleasant surprise."

"The pleasure's all mine," Kira grated.

Watching the Vorta, all Julian could think of was how he'd coldly announced the death of two million people.

Ekoor had moved to a console. "The Federation fleet has surrounded the planet."

Kira nodded fractionally. "I want you to contact the Jem'Hadar and the Breen, and you order their ships to stand down," she told the Changeling, eyes unblinking and unafraid.

"And order their troops on Cardassia to do the same," Garak added.

"I will do no such thing," the Founder said stonily. 

Julian saw how far the engineered disease had progressed in her. Odo's case had been accelerated and appeared worse than this Changeling's, but she certainly did not look well.

Weyoun face then lit up with one of his many false smiles. "Ah, and Dr. Julian Bashir! Formally of the Federation. We'd heard you joined this futile rebellion, but we didn't suppose you'd survived. Tell me, doctor, where's my old friend Damar?"

"Damar's dead," he answered bluntly.

"What a pity."

Beside Julian, Garak shifted on his feet. He was probably, like himself, restraining the urge to shoot the Vorta on the spot.

"He died trying to free Cardassia," Garak declared.

"What's left of it," Weyoun sneered 

Garak instantly gave into the urge and shot Weyoun dead. 

"I wish you hadn't done that," the Founder said, not sounding terribly remorseful. "That was Weyoun's last clone."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Garak was quick to respond.

Kira stepped further into the room and took charge. "This war's over," she declared. "You lost."

The Changeling was unmoved. " _Have_ I? I think you'll find that neither the Jem'Hadar or the Breen will agree with that assessment. They will fight to the last man."

Julian's stomach lurched. Knowing what he did of those forces, he realized that was probably true.

"And what will that accomplish?" Kira asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Founder asked rhetorically. She was looking at them as if they were all insects, lower beings. "You may win this war, Commander, but I promise you, when it is over, you will have lost so many ships, so many lives, that your victory will taste as bitter as defeat."

* * *

An hour later, Kira had spoken to Sisko and Odo. She'd explained the situation, the stalemate, and now Odo had arrived, offering to intercede. 

Julian didn't know what to expect, but like the others, he watched his friend approach the female Changeling, who had been sitting silently at her desk ever since their confrontation. 

"You're looking well, Odo," they said. In contrast to their condition, he certainly was.

"Thank you for seeing me," he replied.

"It's always good to see you. But I have no intention of surrendering my forces," the Founder said implacably. "It would be a sign of weakness on my part. An invitation to the solids to cross into the Gamma Quadrant and destroy the Great Link."

Odo had evidently come determined to reason with her. "Believe me, I'm well aware that the Federation has its flaws, but a desire for conquest isn't one of them."

"And what of the Klingons and the Romulans?" she challenged him. "Can you make that claim for them too?"

Odo was not about to concede. "The Klingon and Romulan Empires are in no shape to wage a war against anyone," he insisted. "Besides, the Federation wouldn't allow it."

"The Dominion has spent the last two years trying to destroy the Federation, and now you're asking me to put our fate in their hands?" 

"Yes."

The Founder had not changed their mind. “I can't do that, Odo. I don't have your faith in the solids."

 _It had been a good attempt_ , thought Julian, _but now we’re stuck_. 

But it seemed Odo wasn't conceding. "Perhaps I can change your mind. Link with me," he offered.

"Odo, what are you doing?" Kira burst out.

The Founder, who normally looked quite expressionless, appeared regretful for a moment. "I'm afraid I can't Link with you, Odo. My disease prevents me from changing form."

Odo held out his hand in offering. "If we Link, I believe I can cure you."

Julian noticed Garak shift and tense beside him. "That's a _very_ bad idea, Constable."

"I agree," said Kira.

Julian realized that by linking, Odo could likely cure the Founder's disease, but he wasn't certain if that was a good or a bad thing. 

"Nerys," Odo assured, "I know what I'm doing. Please, take my hand," he offered again.

"And if you cure me, what will you ask in return?" the Founder asked.

Odo kept his hand out. "All I ask is that you Link with me."

Garak approached the desk, where the two Changelings confronted one another. His weapon was raised. "I'm warning you, Odo."

" _Nerys_." A one-word please. 

"Elim, stop," said Julian, moving halfway to the desk. "Lower your weapon."

"I don't think so, Julian. Your Federation, or your Human, idealism will not win the day."

Julian walked up to the desk and pulled the weapon out of Garak's hands. "I said, _put it down_. This is Odo. He's not going to give us all over to the Dominion. He has his reasons. Trust me."

And Garak did. 

As the humanoids looked on, the two Changeling Linked. The Founder shuddered as if in pain. After a few seconds, both of them returned to their solid forms. The Founder was evidently cured.

Garak stepped around the side of the desk. "Move aside, Odo."

"That won't be necessary. Will it?" he asked the Founder. 

"If you will stand aside," they told them, “I'll order the Jem'Hadar to cease fire."

Garak briefly eyed the weapon now in Julian's possession. "I suggest we secure her in a containment field."

"Don't worry, Garak,” Odo said assuringly. “She won't try to escape. She's agreed to stand trial and accept responsibility for what she's done."

* * *

Their victory truly did taste as bitter as defeat. Worse.  Immeasurably worse.

"Eight hundred million dead," Julian breathed, staring at the console. He was trying to convince himself that he was reading it correctly.

"And casualty reports still coming in," Garak added weakly. He didn't sound well. And no wonder.

"Well, this is it. My exile is now officially over," he declared bitterly. "I've returned home. Or rather, to what's left of it."

 _Oh, Elim._ All Julian wanted to do was hold him in his arms and never let go. But it was something that would have to wait. Garak was not going to accept comfort 

"Some may say that we've gotten just what we deserved," his partner went on. "After all, we're not entirely innocent, are we? And I'm not just speaking of the Bajoran occupation. No, our whole history is one of arrogant aggression. We've collaborated with the Dominion, betrayed the entire Alpha Quadrant. Oh, no, no. There's no doubt about it. We're guilty as charged."

Julian still didn't know what to say, and though he still doubted it was the right thing to do, he opened his arms in invitation. After a few moments hesitation, Garak stepped in and allowed himself to be held.

"Elim. I don't know what to say. I'd probably say the wrong thing anyway." He petted Garak's hair, gone greasy from days without care. "But I do know that I'll stay with you, here on Cardassia. I meant what I said in that basement. No matter what, I'm sticking with you.”

Garak pressed his forehead against Julian's. "In these uncertain times, it's good to have one thing I can rely on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go. This will be an epilogue, although not necessarily a super short one. I'll see how it goes.


	14. Home at Last: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter. Because these two actually managed to not die. And though life on Cardassia is definitely not sweetness and life, they have one thing to be grateful for. 
> 
> I think I've managed to keep this chapter from getting too sappy but at the same time having its sweet moments.
> 
> There's also a special guest, who will, I'm pretty sure, make a bunch of readers quite happy!
> 
> Speaking of readers, THANK YOU, ALL! I've received more comments, kudos, and subscriptions on this story than on any other AO3 work and I appreciate it.
> 
> Last, enormous, huge, mega thanks to [prisdreamsbravely](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prisdreamsbravely/pseuds/prisdreamsbravely), who was the one who encourage me to write this story in the first place and has encouraged me with pretty much every chapter. Occasionally nobody would comment (sad times), but they always would. That is special! Every writer should be so lucky.

Garak trudged down the street toward home, glancing at the ghosts lingering after the war. Gone the fine houses; most of them were now broken silhouettes or mere piles of rubble. Gone the gardens and stately fences, gone the manicured trees and songbirds. So much of Cardassia was like this: gone.

Most of Tain's House had been leveled, although not so much that its contents were irrecoverable. Indeed, lacking Garak's fear of tight places, Julian had slipped in between shattered slabs and retrieved not only a good amount of food from Mila's kitchen – a lifesaver in these times of scarcity – but plates, bowls, utensils, towels, bits of furniture and more. Perhaps most precious to both of them has been a container of genuine, bound books. Tain's office and library couldn't be reached, but Julian pried open a closet that though half-destroyed, gave up at least that one treasure. Even books relegated to a closet were better than no books. 

Garak turned into the yard and made his way up the path he and Julian had forged through the rubble and ash. If he wanted to, he could see things as they had been, but he tried not to. One day they might be able to rebuild and make things something like they had been, but that day was years off. Best now to focus on what _was_ and perhaps a few days, a few weeks ahead. 

Up ahead stood their makeshift home, the one surviving amenity of Tain's property: Tolan's gardening shed. The poetic justice of it was heavy. Garak had grown up thinking the gardener was his father, receiving kindness and wisdom from him, while living under the shadow of his "Uncle" Tain, who had been remote and withheld affection. Though Tolan had in fact been Mila's brother, he had never really abandoned Garak as a son – unlike Tain, who among other things, had sent him into exile. And now it was Tolan's little house that gave Garak and Julian shelter. 

The ex-spy kicked his dusty shoes off at the door and ducked as he pushed through the low door. The shed was immaculately organized and tidy, as both Garak and Julian had agreed it needed to be for their well-being and to maximize space. The gardening work counter was now used for cooking as well as fussing with small electronics that might be repaired. Their possessions were stored in pots on shelves and in cabinets. Dowels along the ceiling which had once been used to dry herbs and such were now used to hang other items or dry clothes. Their bed was an improvisation of Julian's, kitchen curtains and tablecloths over a thick bed of straw over a raised bed of soil. This would soon need replacement, but it had served well in the moment. They'd generally been too exhausted to care about the lack of a soft mattress. 

Take right now. The time was late-afternoon and Garak was just getting home after working on a rubble removal crew since before dawn. He ached all over, but especially in his back and shoulders. And while his hands had toughened up in recent weeks, it seemed he rarely made it through a day without a gash. Fortunately, he had a good doctor. 

That doctor was now sprawled on the bed, face down, shirtless, and stripped to his underwear. The Cardassian heat was taking a toll on the human, despite his enhancements, and coupled with his long shifts at the emergency hospital in the city center, Julian always came home hot and exhausted. He'd left just after dinner the night before and likely had only made it back at noon. If there was any positive to be gained from these challenging conditions, it was the fact Garak got to see Julian's natural coloring bloom into deep caramel with the sun he caught on the walks to and from work and at other times. 

Garak's first impulse was to drop into bed immediately, but the more disciplined part of his mind knew other matters came first. Dinner, for example. He turned to the counter to see what he could do, and to his surprise saw Julian had laid out two single serving packages of Federation rations as well as a bottle of rokassa juice and a box of tea that certainly wasn't from Mila's kitchen. The rations the doctor must've received through the regular distribution, but the juice and tea were likely gifts from patients. All medical services were being provided free of charge, but many Cardassians felt they must offer something in exchange for their treatment. This went for a human doctor as well as it would for any Cardassian. 

Quietly, to let Julian sleep a little longer, Garak prepared their meager but adequate dinner. He gazed out the small window toward the neighboring property and noticed the progress of the green vines growing on the ruins of the stone wall. Slow progress, but by autumn there would be a whole stripe of green. He had to hope. 

In the first few weeks, hope had seemed completely out of reach. The city swirled with dust and flames, and the air was rank with the smell of corpses. While Julian worked to save their survivors, Garak had worked with the dead. Crews had fanned out across the city to recover bodies, both out in the open and buried under rubble, whole and broken into pieces, the elderly and children. 

Garak had lasted about a week and a half before he fell apart. Terrifying nightmares set in – he was besieged by memories of his past, of Tain, of the bodies he handled day in, day out. And then the weeping began. He'd never cried like that. Actually he'd never cried for more than a few minutes maybe. All he wanted to do was hide away in a dark place... or maybe just die along with everyone else, but he wasn't alone. Julian was with him.

He'd tried to conceal his troubles, but that have been impossible, not while sharing such close quarters with such a caring man and a doctor at that. At first Julian tried to get Garak to come in to his clinic, but of course he refused, because he wasn't dying, with severed limbs or disease or burns. So instead the doctor had brought home doses of anti-anxiety medication and sedatives. But, Julian had informed him, such medication wouldn't really get to the heart of the problem. And so he brought in outside help. And it wasn't from the Federation. 

When Kelas Parmak had entered their little shed, Garak's first thought was that he was hallucinating. His head had been filled with the ghosts of his past, and surely this doctor he’d interrogated and sentenced to years in a labor camp was nothing more than a phantom. But when Julian followed behind and Parmak knelt at the end of the bed, where Garak was huddled, he began to reconsider. Maybe this _was_ real. 

"However you threatened Dr. Parmak into coming to see me, Julian," he'd griped, "I assure you it wasn't appropriate." 

He managed to look the Cardassian doctor in the eye briefly, but then looked down at the man's hands. They were roughened like his own. Perhaps that was still from the labor camp?

"I assure you, Garak, I come of my own free will,” Parmak explained gently. “Dr. Bashir outlined your difficulties and how you were reticent about coming in to the clinic.” 

Garak dared to look up at the man's face and noted that he looked much as he had – long hair, a single braid hanging in front, face a little older of course. 

"My expertise is mental health," Parmak explained. "And although there are a great many who need my help right now, I believe I can help you, too." He resettled himself on the bed, taking up a cross-legged position. "Now, how about you start by telling me of any recent traumas? Including any before the obvious one, this Fire, so I have an idea of what you might be dealing with."

At that moment, Garak desperately wanted to retreat into a safe, dark place far away, but there was nowhere to go. And he trusted Julian was trying to help him, and probably so was Parmak, even if Garak's instinct was to think his former victim would want to kill him. 

So he began to tell his story, or the relevant portion. He started with the fact of his exile on Terok Nor, then moved on to how he'd met Julian and eventually become involved. He even managed to include the death of his father, and that Tain _was_ his father. At the mention of Tain, Parmak's mouth had dropped open slightly, but Garak had moved on, forestalling questions. 

From there he'd moved on to detailing his role fighting the Dominion on the Federation side, and then, slowing down to provide more detail, his work with the Resistance, which had morphed into the Rebellion. The deaths of Rusot, his mother, and Damar.

"Damar died in your arms?" Parmak burst out. 

Garak nodded. "He gasped his last word. It was 'Keep–'" He impatiently wiped away a tear. "And then he died. We leapt up and told everyone we had to go on, stop at nothing until we were in that briefing room with the Changeling."

The doctor looked from Garak to Julian and back. "I had no idea you were involved in any of that. Does anyone?"

Garak shrugged. "Julian was involved in every step as well. There've been no commendations. We just got to work, a couple of days after it was over. I don't need recognition. I need to see some kind of semblance of a city."

Parmak nodded in understanding. "I know what you're saying, but still..." He tugged on his braid, a gesture Garak recalled from the vaults of his memory. "I hope that someday you'll be recognized. Now, tell me what else, since then."

And so Garak was forced to recount the last couple of weeks – the bodies, the limbs, the blood... and what he'd been going through. This was both a torment and a relief. A torment because he had to relive it in some ways, and to _Parmak_ of all people, and a relief because apparently at some level he actually _had_ wanted to tell someone. 

"Thank you for being so open," Parmak said in the end. "I'll tell you that I didn't expect it from you, someone with your background. Even your partner, in bringing me here, warned me that you have a history of being deceitful, although he says you've been ‘working on it.’ None of what you said to me _seems_ deceitful, however."

That was a backhanded compliment, if ever Garak had heard one. 

"Now, as far as your treatment, there are a few things I can do for you, and some things you can do for yourself."

Garak forced himself to look the doctor square in the face; there was no point being afraid after all the horrors he'd just recounted.

"First I'd like to set up a series of home visits to walk you through a few of the incidents you described," Parmak began. "Having an outsider lead you through your past and your feelings, including ones you want to avoid, is very useful." 

Just as Garak’s thoughts went to how much he hated that prospect, Parmak continued. "And yes, I _know_ how much you don't want to do this. It's probably the last thing you want to do. But you _need_ to do it."

Garak sighed. The man was going to be as bad as Ezri. Maybe worse, because he was Cardassian. "And what _else_ do you prescribe?"

The doctor shifted on the bed, then slowly rose to his feet. "Starting a journal. I prescribe you start a journal where you recount your past. Not only these traumatic incidents that we'll be talking about, but your childhood, your schooling, your career. Self-reflection will also help you, I think."

The doctor turned to Julian, who hadn't spoken throughout the session, but had instead busied himself preparing a meal. "I have a supply of journals in my office, Dr. Bashir. I'll give some to you tomorrow to bring back here."

"Thank you," said Julian, putting down a stirring spoon and offering his hand. The other doctor took it, apparently understanding human greetings. 

"You're quite welcome."

And with that Parmak had given a little bow and left the shed.

But he had of course not left their lives. As promised (or as Garak saw it, _threatened_ ), Parmak had returned to talk and Julian had brought notebooks. When Garak asked his partner if he knew about Parmak's past with Garak, he said he'd known before he'd brought the doctor to the shed. Parmak had brought it up and further, had insisted they leave it behind them. Garak felt it was inevitable that the past would come up for discussion one day, but while so much else was under discussion, it could wait. Besides, he could journal about it. Parmak had explicitly said he would not be reading Garak's memoirs.

Between the therapy, writing, moving to rubble removal rather than corpse removal, and Julian's attentive care, Garak was feeling better these days. Exhausted, achy, and frustrated, yes, but the nightmares were fewer, he no longer felt so hopeless, and his head was clearing. He was grateful for both doctors' help. Alone, he would never have made it. 

Now that their little dinner was ready, he set it up on a tray and placed that on the low stool they often used as a tiny table. He sat at the end of the bed and squeezed Julian's feet. 

"Wake up, Doctor," he said brightly. "Dinner awaits."

Julian opened his eyes and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Dinnertime." He gestured for the human to sit up and when he did, handed him a plate and a fork. "Thanks for bringing home the food."

"Sure." 

"The juice and tea were gifts, I take it?" Garak asked, pouring himself a small cup of the rokassa. 

"Yes," Julian confirmed. "I delivered a baby today. Woman wasn't even sick or injured, amazingly." He reached and took a cup of tea. "So when her mother insisted on gifting me, I tried to tell her no, it was a joy to bring life instead of seeing more death. But she gave me all that anyway."

"I'm sure you were gracious, dear."

Julian sipped his tea. "Naturally. I believe I've learned nearly every synonym and variant there is on 'you're welcome,' 'it's no problem' and 'it's my pleasure,' or their Cardassian equivalents." 

He spoke humorously but the human's vocabulary had in fact grown by leaps and bounds. And Garak adored the man's accent. Which reminded him. 

"Do you think tonight we might read?" he asked. 

Julian was cutting up the meat substitute in his rations. "You mean, can _I_ read to _you_?" He popped a piece of "meat" into his mouth and chewed. "Sure. It's good practice for me and you seem to enjoy it, though I don't see how, the number of times you have to correct me."

"Perhaps I enjoy the correcting," Garak teased. "The current book certainly isn't the greatest, so that must be it." 

This work was a rather tedious period drama; Garak could see why it had been relegated to the closet. But they had a limited library at the moment so they were going to linger over every book they had. 

"Alright then," Julian agreed. "I'll read. And then, since I don't have to go back to the hospital until morning, perhaps we could exchange more than just words?"

Garak reached out and squeezed his beloved's feet again. "A delightful prospect."

* * *

It was for the best that Parmak was walking him home, Julian realized, through the fog in his head. As it was, he'd already nearly tripped into a ditch and now Parmak had yanked him out of the way of an old man pulling a cart. An old man not going quickly.

"I said you'd need me, Doctor," the Cardassian said softly, steering him into the final street. 

"You were right," Julian admitted, trying to force a little cheer into his voice. "There's a saying on Earth: 'Doctors make terrible patients.'"

The property was in sight as Parmak chuckled. "That should be printed and hung on the walls of every medical school"

Julian grinned weakly, trying to force his mood upward now that they were home, but his heart simply wasn't in it. And when he saw Garak outside working on one of his monuments, the struggle was lost. Julian staggered, then stopped at the edge of the monument field. Parmak didn't let go of his arm. 

"Julian?" Garak briefly looked up from the rock the he was balancing, before glancing down again. "You're home early." A moment later, his brain processed what he had seen and he looked up again. 

"Parmak here thought I should take the afternoon off," Julian managed. 

Garak abandoned his project and stepped up to where Julian and Parmak were standing. "Julian, what's wrong? What's happened?"

Julian took a deep breath to say it, but when he thought about speaking, it seemed too big. Parmak seemed to understand. "Come on," he said, patting his back. "Let's go inside. You should lie down. We'll all have tea."

He let himself be led to the shed, which four months in had actually begun to feel like home. The path through the rubble was entirely clear and now neatly lined with stones and Garak's memorials. Julian heard Garak asking questions on Parmak's other side but since he heard the other doctor was refusing to answer any of them, he let the words flow by. Parmak was right; he really would appreciate being able to lie down. 

Once they were through the door, Parmak moved to the counter to fix tea and Garak settled down with Julian on the bed. There he gently took Julian's hands and simply looked at him inquiringly.

Julian swallowed, inhaled and tried again to say it. This time he managed. "I've renounced my Federation citizenship."

He withdrew his hands from under Garak's and used them to cover his face. He wasn't at all sure what he was hiding from. 

"You completely renounced it? Officially?" Garak asked.

Julian nodded. Through the breaks in his fingers, he saw Garak look up toward Parmak in question. 

"We were at work," the older doctor explained. "Two Federation officials came in to the clinic. We assumed they'd come about medical aid supplies, possibility sending personnel, something like that."

Julian scrubbed his hands briefly over his face, then let them drop. "Soon as I was finished with my patient, I went over. I was looking forward to it."

"But these representatives were _not_ there to help?" Garak queried. 

"No," Parmak replied. Julian was happy to let the man handle some of the conversation. "They had come because _four months_ after the end of the war, the Federation _finally_ caught up with all its citizens and personnel on Cardassia – and realized Dr. Bashir was here."

"Obviously. The Federation sent him here." Garak drew an arm lightly about Julian's shoulders.

Julian stiffened. "Well, they don't want me here now. It went back to the whole 'security risk' issue," he spat. "Because I'm an Augment. Remember that? And now there's no Sisko to argue on my behalf."

"A ridiculous prejudice," Parmak muttered, as he offered Julian and Garak mugs of tea. "Ridiculous."

“I found it especially ungrateful of them considering I joined the Cardassian Resistance,” Julian groused, “which ended up ending the damn war." 

Parmak squatted down on the little stool. "So, want to know what happened?"

Garak nodded.

"Bashir asked these officials what gave them the right to tell him where he could be or make him leave the planet," Parmak explained. "And they said that legally he was still a Federal citizen, even if his status was restricted, due to his genetic status."

Garak turned to Julian and tilted the man’s head up, lifting it with a hand under his chin. "And that's when you renounced your citizenship?"

"Yep." He managed to smile. Somehow, now that the story had been told out loud, he felt better. "They made me repeat it a couple more times, because they couldn't believe it, but I meant it."

Julian could see Garak now processing this in his head. "I see. So, let me see if I have this? If you had lost your Federation citizenship completely two and a half years ago, it would have made your loss of status even more devastating. However, now you've given it up on purpose and you feel good about it."

That sounded about right. "Yes. Illogical?"

"Well, I understand it." Garak sipped his tea and eyed Parmak thoughtfully. "Do you think we could get him Cardassian citizenship?"

The older man traced his index finger along his ocular ridges. "We _personally_? No. But I think if we went to the right people, we might be able to make that happen."

Julian brightened. "Really? I assumed I was just going to stay stateless."

"Oh no, dear, we couldn't have that. Terribly unsafe. And you do keep saying you intend to stay on Cardassia, so you might as well, yes?"

"I can't argue with that," Julian admitted. "And I don't see anyone else fighting over me."

"I'd certainly fight for you." Garak squeezed Julian hard, one-armed. 

After that they finished their tea as well as a small box of biscuits Julian had been presented with a couple of weeks earlier. When Parmak left to return to his own home, Julian offered his thanks for helping him get home and sort himself out. 

"I regret it's come to this," Garak said, after the door had closed.

"What do you mean?"

"You having to give up your citizenship, of course," Garak supplied. 

Julian shrugged. "Well, it was pretty much taken from me back on the station." He stretched out on the bed and laid a forearm over his eyes. "So I got over it then. Or I _thought_ I did. As you saw, somehow _formally_ renouncing it upset the hell out of me."

"Hmm." Garak was sitting at the foot of the bed and rubbed a hand up and down Julian's shins. "I noticed. Something about doing it willingly, I suppose. And there being no going back."

"Yep." Julian drew his arm away. "I can't believe I– But I had to. It was the only thing to do. I'm not leaving here. And logically, where did those Federation people expect me to go?"

Garak tilted his head slightly. "That's a point."

"Yes, isn't it? I brought it up with them and they said it was 'immaterial.' One of them suggested I should simply go back to Bajor." 

In the back of his mind, he'd wondered if either or both of them had come from Section 31 for him. 

He didn't voice this thought to Garak. "But I didn't explore this with them, because I _won't_ be uprooted."

Garak slid down to Julian's side. "You and your insane desire to remain on this destroyed planet."

Julian took his partner by the shoulders and then nuzzled his hair. "It's not insane. It's quite rational." When Garak pulled back to argue, Julian resisted him and began to nibble along an aural ridge. "Hey... none of that. You don't get to tell me my own motivations. I am not insane. I'm here for you. And the planet. But mostly for you. Quite rational."

Julian felt Garak smile against his ear. "Fine. I'll take whatever motivation I can get, as long as I can get you."

* * *

"This is marvelous."

Garak looked askance at his partner from across a thermos of tea. "Marvelous, dear? We're sitting on a construction beam with a view of half-wrecked apartment blocks."

Julian was adamant. "That's just it! They're only _half_ -wrecked, and by this time next year, I bet they'll be _majority_ -fixed. Why's this new beam here, after all?"

"Someone's misplaced optimism," Garak speculated. "Or the work of a master Ferengi businessman."

Julian grabbed his own thermos and took a sip of his own tea. "Oh, do _try_ and be happy."

"I _am_ happy!" Garak insisted. "Making the most of it, out taking advantage of the fair weather and a shared day off. Celebrating your newly gained Cardassian citizenship."

"Provisional," Julian amended. 

" _Provisional_ ," Garak repeated, "but more than adequate. 

It had taken nearly four months, but the week before, with Garak and Parmak's assistance and backstage maneuvering, Julian had obtained provisional Cardassian citizenship. The "provisional" status represented several factors which made it different than standard citizenship; namely, it had only been extended for an initial five years and at this time did not included the right to vote. However disappointing this might have seemed to someone else, Julian had taken it in stride. He probably would not have gotten citizenship at all, he argued, but for his work in the Resistance and now many months working in the hospital. He was grateful for sanctuary. 

"Since you seem to need more cheering," Julian went on, "I might break some news to you."

"News? What news?" Garak held his hands up, palms outward, in an exaggerated fashion. "Are your parents visiting? We've got to tidy then! Not to mention dig out a lean-to..."

Julian gave his shoulder a playful shove. "That would be an unpleasant surprise. This is something you'll welcome."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Garak crossed his arms and waited a few beats. "Well?"

"You ready?"

"Obviously."

"OK." Julian leaned in and took Garak by the outer shoulders. "We're getting a new bed." 

 _This_ was unexpected. They’d certainly talked enough times about upgrading their sleeping accommodations, and they even rebuilt it a couple of months earlier, but they still had not found the means to replace it. 

"A bed? As in an _actual_ bed?"

Julian nodded. "A mattress. Comfortable – but not too soft because I know you don't like that and it's not good for us anyway. It'll have a hypoallergenic cover to keep mites and things from nesting in it. And big enough for both of us, but not so big it doesn't fit in the space we've got."

"Sounds delightful." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Julian's forehead. "Any further details you'd like to share?" 

"It's coming with a nice bedframe. Low to the ground, not taking up much space, but with a little carved headboard." He described this roughly with his hands. "Oh, and Kira has thrown in two blankets."

"Kira?" 

"Ah, well, that detail," he chuckled, rising up from their perch, "is one I hadn't mentioned." The young man always savored knowing things before Garak. "Kira is sending blankets because the bed is coming from Bajor. And the bed is coming because with her help, I finally managed to dispose of my property there."

His property? Of course. "Oh. I should have realized that much earlier. We're not getting your old bed, are we?"

Julian was surveying the ruins. "No. That was great big one, as I'm sure you can recall if you try." He sat back down. "Different bed. I had everything sold, except a few personal bits, and those proceeds were used to buy a custom bed and the remainders transferred to my regular account on Bajor. Meager as they are, those remaining funds might help us out a bit in future."

"How enterprising of you." 

Scanning the sky, Garak judged it might be time to head towards home soon. Even if it was to the same old bed. 

"I worked it all out during night shifts, contacting ships, sending messages subspace when I could get it." Julian also seemed to be checking the sky. "Kira did the groundwork, literally going down to the planet. Quark even helped a bit, no charge."

"I'm touched." Garak gathered their things into a bag. "Well, I think it's time we headed back, don't you?"

In agreement they threaded their way back through the mix of ruins, rebuilt houses and lived-in ruins that made up the city's neighborhoods. By the time they turned the corner on their street, it was nearing sundown. And there was plenty enough light to see a transport vehicle was parked in front of their property. 

"It isn't here al–" 

"It is!" Julian cried out, having run ahead. "It has to be! It's from the cargo port!"

Garak refused to run in a non-emergency situation so was pleased when the human waited for him at the curb. Together they hurried up the path toward the shed. 

"Ah, there you are!" Parmak greeted them, stepping out from inside. "I knew you'd have to be back soon. Come in! Look!"

Fortunate Julian had told him about upcoming surprise or he be quite confused now, Garak considered. 

Inside a workman was scanning the third of three shipping boxes stacked on the floor. A mattress-sized box leaned against the wall next to him along with a long, narrow box which Garak assumed contained the bedframe. The workmen held out a PADD for Parmak to sign, but the doctor simply gestured to Julian, who took care of it and thanked the man, who quickly departed.

"The depot tried to reach you at the office," Parmak explained. "And when they couldn't, they asked if they could speak to someone who works with you who could maybe help them out delivering it. They just don't have a lot of room to hold stuff. Since I knew what it was, I was happy to take care of it. Not that entailed much."

"Riding in the truck and giving directions," Garak guessed.

"Well, I did have to walk to the depot, but yes." 

Since Julian meanwhile had started to fuss with the smaller boxes, undoubtedly the personal items he'd mentioned earlier, Garak decided to take on the bed. "Could you help me out here, Kelas?" 

They were all on a first name basis now – good friends. Occasionally Garak thought Kelas might become more than a friend, but that was still a matter for the future. 

For now, the unboxed the bed frame and the mattress. They were both rather nice. Indeed, the frame was solid wood and the headboard handcarved. Garak wondered how much Julian's home had sold for but resolved he'd never ask. He would just be grateful.

"Oh, _hello_ there!" Julian burst out. 

Garak turned from the mattress to see the human lifting a very familiar object from one of the crates. "Reunited?"

"Yes!" Julian stepped up and gave Garak a one armed hug while holding up Kukalaka in the other hand. "He's got to have been so lonely. But no more!"

Parmak was looking across the mattress inquiringly. 

"This is Kukalaka, Kelas," he explained politely. "He's Julian's _'bear_.'"

Julian held the scruffy creature out for inspection. "A bear is a large carnivorous animal on Earth, and this is sort of a toy version of it."

"I see," said Parmak. "And I gather you normally take it with you wherever you go?"

Julian was now holding it to his chest. "Yes. I've had it since I was small. I didn't take it with me when I left for Cardassia because we couldn't pack much." 

Conversation moved on then, as they assembled the bed and Julian found places for some of the items in the boxes. A lot of it seemed like they would have to stay in the boxes for a while, as they simply didn't have the space. 

But the bed, and the blankets – and pillows – Kira had added herself, were glorious. So much so that once it was set up, Parmak excused himself, insisting they enjoy it. Julian could report back on it the next day. 

"This is splendid, dear," Garak sighed, stretched out at full length, luxuriating. 

Julian turned on his side and rubbed his face into Garak's shoulder. "Isn't it? A real bed. Makes it almost like a real house. And I've got Kukalaka. And two or three bottles of Bajoran brandy. Even a couple of crystal glasses I didn't sell."

"We could turn this into an occasion," Garak ventured.

Julian kissed along Garak's shoulder ridge. "We could. In fact, we should."

Garak was the one who got up for the brandy, which he'd seen Julian set on the counter. He didn't bother looking for the fine crystal but used their regular ones. He set them down on the little stool next to the bed and uncorked the bottle. 

"I'd like to propose a toast," he began, sitting on the edge of the bed, as Julian crept over from the far side. "And you know how I feel about such dedications, but nonetheless."

Julian settled in next to him. Each filled a glass and held it out. 

"A toast. To finding one another. And to finding a home. At last." 

They clinked their glasses together. They weren't crystal, but they would do quite nicely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. Drop a note to let me know what you think of this last chapter or the whole epic story. I'd love to know!!!!!
> 
> Also, if you'd like to follow me on Tumblr and get reviews of all kinds of Garak & Bashir stories, plus a ton of artwork and stuff, I run this here: http://gplusbfics.tumblr.com.


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